


Code of Silence

by Blue_Magic, TheBlepKing, TheDreamyWarrior



Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Additional characters will be added as story progresses, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Be gay do crimes is taken literally, F/F, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tags May Change, We wont hurt them too much, Will change to explicit later on for future reasons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2020-06-26 04:44:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19760857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Magic/pseuds/Blue_Magic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBlepKing/pseuds/TheBlepKing, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDreamyWarrior/pseuds/TheDreamyWarrior
Summary: "What happens in Empire City, never sleeps".Peridot always believed this phrase to be a load of hot air. Her ideal city—with the most ideal of universities—could protect her from the street rumors and death statistics. Common sense was her weapon and she had a load of internet knowledge on her fingertips. After all, she was going to settle here for four years. What's the worst that could happen? The answer took its time but didn't hesitate to hurt her.





	1. Empire State of Mind

> o·mer·tà  
>  /ōˈmertə/  
>  noun  
>  (as practiced by the Mafia) a code of silence about criminal activity and a refusal to give evidence to authorities.  
>  " _loyal to the oath of omertà"_

* * *

* * *

Ideal people walked the streets of Empire.

The bustling crowds knew of the type: researchers, entrepreneurs, artists, investors. Companies. Showmen. Charismatic buffoons and their stand-up microphones. What do they all have in common? The ability to conjure up miracles. Not the average type of miracles, but the ones that people envied, the type that brought many to success or ruin. They were dreamers, the same type of people that gave this concrete home its idyllic name. Empire City was known as the “City of Dreams”, and Peridot followed it. She followed it ever since she was little, back in her infant years—where fate introduced her to the small engine clutch and exchanged her a glimpse of professional paradise from afar.

She heard many things about the Eastern juggernaut. The pamphlets bragged of the high life, the centerpieces, the revolutionary step in technology like it was the key component to fulfill an ambition. Teachers compared it to the fountain of youth, believing it would remove their dredged mistakes with the talks of casinos and bars. Broadway. Smoke. Skylines. Wall Street. The fabulous sting of nightlife. It was the ideal situation, the type that appealed to the young and bold.

Now she was here, feet hooked by the foot pegs—motorcycle growling with each stroke of the highway. The interstate cluttered to the brim with every variety of car she can list. From the lowest of station wagons to the liveliest of Camaros, her eyes took it all in, round spectacles clinging to the bridge of her nose, the ends of her flannel whipping against the current.

The skyline glowed in muffled hues. The horizon, fading in tint, rested on the luminescent waters, waiting for the day to return at full volume. The sleepy atmosphere was funny to her. She remembered all the brochures and tourist websites that advertised the more energetic version of the real deal. Casinos booming with inflation-inducing rates, the flourishing nightlife, the cradle of machinery and dreams. She wasn’t disappointed, especially with what she got instead, but it made her mind buzz. This was a new beginning she’s dealing with, and the thought of it made her focus more on the road, wanting to get to her new address.

Empire City, EM 10022.

Her hands twitched, fingers tight against the handles when she veered to the available exit ramp; she was off to see her new home—an apartment situated in the dinks of Manhattan.

* * *

The buzzes of city life died down when she closed the apartment door behind her, a quiet breath of relief leaving her lips. She adjusted her backpack and luggage without a word, the smell of cramped air hitting her nostrils. It felt weird to be in a small but advanced place like the urban sprawl, but the apartment lobby allowed some form of closure for her. It was a quaint space, like a small post building back home, but the lack of interior personality kept her feet moving.

The building’s attempt at spirit was disappointing. Everything was bleached. The walls were the skin of potatoes, the sparse potted plants were dry to the stalk, and the furniture that resided in the lobby were stripped of quality. It was like the maintenance crew left it there immediately after assembling it all, going with the bare minimum rather than adding in more effort.

A woman occupied the front desk, the corner of her mouth twitching at the sight of her. Peridot noted the skittish twitch and spasms of the lady’s fingers, tapping the keyboard every so often with each glance she gave her. She looked young, but the eye bags and frazzled hair made her question it. She exhaled. “You need anything?” She sounded like a crow.

“Uh, hello.” Peridot gave her a toothy grin, squeezing her luggage handle. “The name’s Peridot Olivine, and I was assigned to...room fifteen?”

“You signed up personally or online?”

“Online.”

The woman gave her a blank stare before standing up from her seat. She walked over to a small stack of cubbies against the wall, fumbling with one of them before bringing back a key to the front of the desk. Clattering on the wood, it gave Peridot its full attention. It was scratched, the remnants of the yellow paint decorating the surface in splotches. The woman drawled on. “Identification, please.”

Peridot fished around her pockets. She frowned after a few seconds, glancing up towards the woman, noticing her dead-eyed expression. “Erm, just give me a few minutes.”

She placed her backpack down, scavenging through the contents with clammy fingers. She fingered the pockets and niches. Cables. Scattered toiletries. No card in sight. A light tap on her back almost made her keel.

“Hey, you dropped this.” She settled down at the sight of her ID card. It was between the fingers of a lady, attempting to nudge the card at her chest, seemingly impatient. “It was on the floor.”

Peridot eyed the plastic before taking it. It wasn’t chipped. It was intact to the fullest extent. “Wow, thanks! What can I do to repa—”

Before she could finish, the woman was gone, having left the building with a click of the door. Peridot’s shoulders went sluggish, deciding to carry on with the transaction even with the rude exit. Or maybe she was the one who was being rude? She did check the card for a long time before thanking her.

With her key in hand, she made her way up to her floor by the lift, fingers tapping senselessly at her thigh before she ushered herself onto the third floor. Her mind kept her occupied, repeating the address multiple times. It was the third floor, the fifth room to the right, with the initials of fifteen.

Door fifteen welcomed her with scratched wood on its surface and a chipped number plate. She didn’t know what she expected with this type of situation; living in a prominent city has its setbacks regarding finance, but at least it looked groomed. She fished out her key.

_Click._

A whiff of the room and she already wanted to leave. Her ears pounded at the screaming down the revealed hallway, the sloppy percussions of a monkey band rebounding from the walls. She closed the door behind her, headache rising at the stench of doritos and beer.

“Yeah! Beat him up with all your body!” Rang a voice ahead, making her wonder if her roommate could even hear her.

It then hit her. This was the roommate she was going to be with for four years. That would not do.

The blonde walked over to the living room. She gave a sharp inhale when the clatter of beer cans sounded at the contact of her shoes. Her foot kicked a few to the side, a loud whoop from the couch resonating through the quarter. It didn’t take a sliver of brain power for Peridot to find the source of the noise: a woman lounging on the messy results of two couches squished together, commentary spewing from her lips to the bleating music from the television. She was getting nauseous at this point. “In the name of the stars, what’s going on!”

The woman on the couch yelped, scrambling for the pause button—which took a few seconds from her clambering in the mess of cushions and blankets.

“Oh shit!” She finally paused the game; the absence of the music made the other’s head spin. “I thought you would be here on Sunday!”

The girl looked over at a calendar on the wall. Peridot placed her bags on a clean portion of the floor, hoping it wasn’t sticky from previous beer spills. “I sent you a voicemail announcing that I would arrive on Saturday, preferably at midnight.”

“Oh.” She rubbed her neck, letting out a nervous chuckle. “Guess I messed up on the scheduling. I was planning on cleaning up the day before Sunday but, whoop...I got distracted.”

She motioned over to the paused menu of her TV screen; Peridot wondered if this was going to be a heavy occurrence with her even after she moved in. Now that she had a good glance at her, with her bulky sweatpants, her tousled tank top, and the purple gem dangling onto her neck for dear life, this must’ve been the case. She resonated chaos. Or something similar to chaos.

“That’s fine.” The blonde still found it relieving that she was planning to clean up the place, even though the time placement was incorrect. “You were the only one who accepted my requests for a place to stay in the area, so I’ll let it slide. As long as we keep the hygiene decent, with the volume to a moderate level, I won’t complain about this again.”

“Sweet.” The girl gave her a sheepish grin, crawling out of the couch nest. She was stout, too sedentary for a wrestler now that Peridot thought about it, recalling the small details from her profile. But a few things did match up to her predictions. For the most part, her brown skin and lavender-dyed hair. The Latina pulled out a hand. “Name’s Amethyst, I’m going to be your awesome roommate for the next few years.”

Peridot wasn’t comforted by that statement, but she shook her hand, either way, giving her a small smile. “Peridot Olivine.”

“Nice to know gem names are still in-season.” Amethyst chuckled, blowing a lilac strand from her face. “You’ll be sleeping in the vacant bedroom next to mine. I wasn’t planning on using it so feel free to do whatever you want there. Better than my original plans anyway.”

She walked over to the bedroom in question, grabbing her luggage along the way. She peeked her head in, confirming that the bedroom was stripped of any character, only possessing a naked bed, drawers, and a set of blinds. The beginner’s package. “What were you planning on doing with it?” Peridot asked.

“Video game room.” She said. It didn’t take much for Peridot to pull her luggage into the room, beginning to unpack. Each article of clothing was divided into small sections on the mattress. “I was also considering turning it into personal storage. I have way too much stuff from living here in the city.”

Peridot stifled. She kept eye contact with the Latina, who was starting to pick up the soiled beer cans off the floor. “How long have you lived here?”

“Two years.” Amethyst’s smile was too Cheshire to shrug off. “You get to learn a lot if you explore the city, Peri. I once found this sweet bullet near a drain downtown, and I've got an expert eye for the best restaurants nearby.”

“A bullet.” She gripped harder on one of her shirts. Well, that did confirm one of her fears regarding the city. “I won’t have to endure harassment in these parts of Manhattan, right?”

“Yeah, it ain’t that bad as long as you don’t anger some assholes on the streets,” Amethyst told her, booping the girl’s nose with an unoccupied hand. “And you're either the type to do just that or shimmy around it.”

“I'm not going to ‘shimmy around it’.” Peridot scoffed. Fighting off some hustlers on the street isn't different from fending off drunk townies. “I can handle myself.”

“Ohh, really?” Amethyst grinned even more, dumping the cans into a trash bin. “Then I guess you won't be needing any help navigating the city if you know what you're doing.”

The sing-songy tone of it made her squint, but she couldn't help but think about it. Does she really want to be alone in a huge city, with a known history of tragedy no doubt? A part of her found it funny that she would be scared by the notion. The other half of her, not so much. “I do admit that having a more experienced guide would remove the hassle of any misdirection.”

“Awesome.” Amethyst looked satisfied with her answer, grabbing another stray from the floor. “Look, I'll handle the mess, just get comfy with the whole place. You’ll be living here for a few years after all.”

She was right about that. Peridot was here for a reason, and that reason was to fulfill a promise. A promise to succeed.

“I will.” With that, the girl strode off to another portion of the apartment, leaving Peridot alone with her thoughts.

After a few more minutes of scuffling about, organizing her clothes into the drawers, her eyes glided over to the blinds. Glints of light teased her, enticing her with the idea of the midnight view. She strode over, wrapping her hand around the cord. They rose at the sharp tug of the cable, allowing her to survey the bustling night of the city, distant lights dancing with the skyline.

It felt funny to be here, she thought, it almost felt unreal, more of a fantasy she proclaimed ever since she was a child. Her fingers danced on the windowsill, allowing herself to hum a song. An imaginary song, one she imagined would fit with the rhythm of the city and its inhabitants. It was fleeting, but it really did remind her of her goal here.

She took in the outside through the pane of glass, trying to listen to the city and its rhythm.

On an outlook level, the brochures were right. The breathing metropolis in front of her, it never slept. Its citizens and their meddlesome actions kept blood pumping into its heart. Empire City, in its gilded glory, was a character of its own. 


	2. Nobody Knows Empire City

Even without her mother’s occasional screams in the morning, Peridot found it easy to heave herself out of bed. Years of being roused by the bell, by the chatter of siblings, and the suffocation under a sleeping pig, kept her with a mental timer. The routine was familiar, but the apartment wasn’t. The silence was unorthodox and tranquil. The perfect balance for a girl who’s been raised in a talkative household since day one.

Sunlight seeped through the blinds in cracks. It danced above her, letting her eye the specks of dust that kept in tune with the rays. It was enduring, a part of daily life she couldn’t help but watch in her stupor. It was a sign of domestic life, relaxation, and the prosperous idea of rest. It made her crack a grin to herself, the pull to work slowly leaving…

Then came the shrill blare of keys beside her, alarm buzzing on the bedside.

With the slam of the snooze button, Peridot pulled herself up. She ruffled her mane, grumbling throughout, and went to find the bathroom. Feet bare and cold, she walked, hoping for her energy to rush through her with the enthusiasm of sugar. It didn’t, but what can she do? For Peridot, going back to sleep was a sign of laziness, and having her face pelted by ice water should fix the problem. She stretched, not noticing the growing gap in her roommate’s bedroom door.

“What the—” Amethyst was beginning to stumble out in a daze of sleep. Her hair held in a scrunchie, pajamas decked in purple polka dots. Peridot paid her no mind. She must've woken up from the noise. “Why the hell are you up?”

“To wake up, of course,” Peridot said. The ajar door of their washroom caught her eye, making her way towards it.

“Five a.m. is not the time to be walking around.” Murmured Amethyst, glancing at her phone to recite the time. However, Peridot wasn’t bothered by that. “No one gets up this early unless they were held by gunpoint or something.”

“I'll have you know that this is an optimal time to seize the day, Amethyst.” She explained, rolling her eyes. The Olivine didn’t stand sleeping late. Her nerves were too frazzled by her schedule—it felt imprinted into her muscle memory. She won’t be able to attend school tomorrow in a few days anyway, so there’s no rush. “You were excited about the concept of touring me around hours ago, so where's that same enthusiasm?”

“It's still in hibernation, and I should be too.” Amethyst groaned, rubbing her eyes. With that, she trudged back into her room. “Y'know what? The tour will start later. I'm gonna go knock myself out.”

“That's unhealthy.” Peridot's comment was brushed off by the click of the door. At least Amethyst was still keeping the tour in her priority list.

* * *

The tour happened three hours later. Peridot didn’t see it as a major loss. It gave her enough time to hook her laptop to the apartment router, waiting for her roommate to wake up from her extra minutes in the sack. She had nothing better to do, so why waste them on standing idly by? It still surprised her when Amethyst did get up in the end.

Peridot was a visual learner. She may get confused about concepts—such as the average snake or circuit board—but it didn't stop her from experiencing them. With each location they went to, she attempted to route it in her mind—only for it to get jumbled in a sea of short-term memory. Amethyst picked up at this, not interfering with her when she cockily strode towards locations she hasn't even explored yet. She wondered if Amethyst was patient, but she didn't know for sure.

She could barely tell the difference between night and day; the only one she could find was that the night brought out the city’s liveliness more than the sun would allow. More advertisements rode on the highs of luminescence, keeping her stimulated by the energy that surrounded her every move.

Amethyst's bursts of information kept her satisfied too, bringing along tidbits of the roads she's traveled and the people she's met. A guy who slept in his van day-and-night until his past works in music brought him a humble living. A Vietnamese woman who reunited with her family a few years ago in the Empire State Building. Artists that looked for a decent tip in the subways. People who've struggled but found a way to get to where they were now. It made her grateful that she wasn't born here but brought over here by ambitions at a mature age.

“So, why aren't we going to the main restaurants in Times Square?” She asked her. They've been avoiding the main attractions of the entertainment district for quite a while, which irked her more than anything. Sure, it was the perfect breeding ground for hustlers and cheap-skates, but it harbored room in Peridot’s memories no less. She remembered her mother bringing her and her siblings to the establishments, and the memories were always clouded with fantastic selections of pasta and baseball sessions—preferably baseball. It felt unreasonable to leave them out of her experience since she’s already deemed an ‘adult’ for societal reasons.

“Because their crud is expensive as hell.” Answered Amethyst. She continued to direct her through an unknown street, shrugging her shoulders. If one peered up, the sky reflected endless blue and open space; the streets were the exact opposite, countless faces bumping and swarming like fish on ocean asphalt. “I would love to stuff my face with breadsticks, but I'm broke soooo.”

She had a point, Peridot begrudgingly thought. Even though her curriculum has been taken care of financially, she still lacked a steady income to keep herself afloat. She needed to get a job sooner or later. “It makes sense, I guess. When are we going to get there?”

Amethyst’s smirk seemed to glow. “Dude, we're already here.” They stopped at a small corner. At the base of a building wedged a small establishment. Flora framed its front, potted plants dangling from its pink sun-dried awning. An aroma pulled her, mingling with the strength of milk chocolate and lavender. “My favorite restaurant in the city!”

Peridot’s eyes locked with the window, sitting on the door’s right with color on its surface. A huge pastel star welcomed them. Pink. Purple. Blue. Red. Yellow. The colors divided the shape like territory, forming perfectly-cut sections. She then regarded the signboard. _The Temple Café & Karaoke_. “Which one?”

“Which one what?” Amethyst raised an eyebrow, leaning on a wooden sign that sat outside the building.

“You've labeled three restaurants as your 'favorite’ before this.” Her tone was monotonous. “This is the fourth one.”

“Dude, I can have multiple faves.” Amethyst snorted, giving the girl a clap on the back. “This one’s really good though. Trust me, one of the workers here are in the same uni as you.”

Her eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yeah, I don't think I've talked about Garnet yet, but come on.” She ushered her inside.

At the sound of the bell, Peridot was hit with the scent of fresh roses. The sweet song of piano lulled her senses, allowing her to take in the soft interior. Blossoms and verdures thrived in corners and hung on the gentle ceiling, growing in affectionate tendrils and buds. The walls held fixtured paintings. One reminding her of Pollock, another reminding her of the rococo. It was peaceful. Homely. Sweet to the soul. The only thing that pulled her out of her daze was the counter at the back of the room, with its glassed-up treats and menu board.

Amethyst lead her over to a table, where the waiting game began. It wasn’t long before a slim figure appeared from the kitchen door, brushing off her coat in a hurry before surveying the building. When Amethyst waved towards her, the woman gave a tired smile and walked towards them without delay.

“Amethyst, it’s nice to see you here today.” Her voice was of a bird, a hummingbird to be specific. It was melodic, sweet but calm to the ears. At a further glance, she looked more like a frazzled woman. Her light hair was in quick chops, harbored dark bags under her eyes, and looked stiff at the shoulders. What surprised her was the niche on her forehead. A scar—white like snow. “Is this—”

“Yep, it’s P-Dot herself.” Amethyst beamed up at her, Peridot flushing at the newfound comment. She hasn’t gotten a nickname like that since high school. “My new roommate in the flesh.”

“Ahhh, Peridot.” The woman let out a light laugh, giving Peridot a small handshake in return. “It’s nice to finally meet you. Welcome to Empire City.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, err—”

“Pearl.” She offered Peridot a warm smile, fishing out her notebook from her breast pocket. “Amethyst has been talking about you for a while, so I’m glad that you’re finally here! I’m the owner of this establishment, so I’ll be taking your order.”

She settled down. "Good, we haven't eaten since we've walked."

“Not that many people today, Pierogi?” Amethyst cocked her head at Pearl. Her finger was occupied, fiddling with the table’s small quartz centerpiece. “It’s like a ghost town in here.”

Pearl sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. A very slow day on our part, and the fact someone forgot to buy a few ingredients we needed—we're not exactly in full-frontal condition." She then gave her a flat look. “And after what you did with the toaster yesterday, it'll take a while for costumers to come back.”

The girl slumped a bit in her seat, feigning innocence. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb,” the woman scolded. Amethyst just kept leaning in her chair, groaning under her breath. “Do you know how long it took to repair the toaster? You fried a good amount of the circuitry and we had to buy new transistors to replace—Are you even listening!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault that the grilled cheese life hack was a lie!” Snapped Amethyst.

“Then maybe you should’ve done some extensive research before starting the kitchen fire! I can’t believe you would...!” Peridot watched the two humans duke it out, duke it out to a subject that confused her more than it should’ve. She was a fish out of water. A fish trying to comprehend the possible endangerment of a restaurant with a measly toaster.

“Look!” Amethyst’s voice cracked, shooting up from her chair. “Could you stop blaming me for this crud? I only did it once and it’s not like I’m gonna do it again!”

Pearl scowled. “Once? Did you already forget—”

“A-hem!” Peridot’s voice, high and grinding with frustration, forced its way in. Amethyst and Pearl stopped in their tracks, looking over at her in confusion. “I would love to argue the semantics of toaster arson, but can we order now?”

They kept staring at her. As the seconds passed, the determination slipped away from their eyes. Shoulders loosened and voices lightened. Amethyst returned to her seat—eyes preoccupied with a lonely corner. Pearl regained her composure, gaze switching back to her notes. “Oh uh yes, of course! What would you like to buy?”

* * *

The Temple visit went smoother than Peridot predicted. The introduction was akin to ice running down her back, but the meal afterward melted away any tension that resided. If one observed her roommate and the waitress, you would think that something restarted in their brains, allowing them to subconsciously get along even after a chaotic reception. With the quips about the ‘toaster incident’ buried, the two were welcomed to a relaxing evening of pastries and coffee. And afterward, they were given bags for their remaining treats and left.

It was a recreational area through and through, she mused—trying to keep track of her roommate's movements in the crowds. One could relax whole-heartedly in that café and believe in the idea of focus and comfort. Nobody would bother her unless they were a clod looking for spare change or a conversation.

“We’ll probably see Garnet later.” Amethyst’s words finally got through her head, the girl kicking a few pebbles with her foot while eyeing the streets signs overhead. “Besides, your uni stuff starts soon, so it shouldn’t take long to spot her.”

They were following the branching streets of Manhattan. The plan, courtesy of Amethyst, was to bring her over to the local subway station to check out her university and the surrounding area in Upper Manhattan—much to the confusion of Peridot, who asked why they weren’t able to use her motorcycle, and getting a reply of a quick “it’s fun this way”.

“I guess.” Peridot saw the subway entrance after a few more turns of the corner. It was still operational, much to Amethyst’s delight.

“Trust me, it’s better than being jammed up in traffic,” Amethyst told her while they descended the stairs, the clack of their shoes skipping from the walls. “Plus, you get to watch some awesome street performances here. Sometimes a few of my buds drum it up here with buckets.”

“Charming.” She drawled. It wasn't like she was interested, it's more so of doubt than anything. All of the videos she's seen of the Empire subways usually correlated to three things: breakdancing, fake genies, and artists using anything they could to get a decently sized audience. It sounded great on paper, but starting in a place like this sounded fruitful to her, especially if the right people didn't see you at the right time.

They walked onto the platform, seeing crowds bustling about for the daily grind. A few would keep their distance with their shined business shoes and monochrome garb, the rest gathering in clumps, sparking conversations that Peridot imagined sounded like an amalgam of thoughts. Lively and congested. Something she’ll never get used to.

She looked over and spotted Amethyst at a nearby wall. She was perusing the subway map, mumbling illegible words under her breath, presumably trying to find the nearest train that’ll get them to Upper Manhattan without a hitch. It left Peridot to wander around the platform with no real goal in mind, trying to find the nearest bench to rest on. That meant jostling her body into tight squeezes of the crowd, hands occasionally patting her front pockets to keep her phone and wallet intact. Men and women left and right. Raised talks and phone calls. They were here and there, she couldn't escape it.

A sharp jolt to the shoulder came, leaving her and a man to stumble in their plight. The sound of a harsh clap grabbed her attention. She looked back up to notice the person she bumped into picking up a phone from the floor. He was walking towards her, his beard—the shape of a million pine needles—twitching with his glare, face contorted in disgust at the sight of an intimidating crack on his mobile screen. He growled. “The fuck did ya’ do?”

“I didn—”

“Oh hell ya’ didn’t.” He bared his teeth, shoving the broken phone into her face. Peridot tried to back up. “Ya’ didn’t watch where you were walking and now it’s broken. Pay up.”

“I don’t have any money.” Peridot tensed, eyes flitting over to portions of the crowd, trying to find Amethyst. She couldn't find her.

“Look, kid,” the man pulled back the phone, continuing his advances. Each step made her heart drop. “I know college is suffocating and all, but I have bills to pay, and this shit ain’t cheap. So pay up!"

Before the man could go further, a woman pulled him back from the blonde, sending him scrambling to his feet. Peridot tried to calm her trembling hands, adrenaline still in her system as she took in her heroine in front of her. A stocky black woman, with sunglasses to boot. “A subway isn't an ideal place for a scuffle."

The man, previously disoriented, shot a look at her. He still kept a grip on his cell when he motioned over to Peridot. “This lady broke my phone, and she won’t pay for the damages.”

Peridot growled, her hands forming into tight fists. She didn’t have time for this. “I don’t owe you anything, you clod.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What the hell did you—”

“This phone.” The woman motioned over towards the device in his hand, the fresh fissures still on the interface.

The man nodded vigorously at that. “Yes, she broke my iPhone and—”

“Then we'll settle this dispute with the police.” The woman took out her phone. What surprised Peridot was the quick morph from aggression to hesitation on the man’s face. It looked almost...afraid, uncertain. “They'll be able to sort out this predicament without a problem.”

“We—we don’t need the police to get involved with such a small thing.” He told her, stuffing the phone back into his jean pocket.

“If it’s a small thing, then you don’t need to do this to the girl for money.” She told him with a smile, waving him away. “If you need the payment, then the station is—”

“No, no.” He backtracked, giving a wary glance to an unknown corner of the platform. “I don't want any trouble. Have a good day.”

He then sped off into the crowd, the denizens muttering in confusion at his sudden intrusion into the horde. Peridot couldn’t help but snicker at the last remnants of his flee. She can practically see the tail between his legs, whining and complaining about his fractured cell like a lost puppy. She started to cackle.

“Oh man, you got him good!” She grinned up at her, trying to find the ease of expression behind the shades. “Thanks for covering me back there, he was being a real pain in the rear.”

“It’s no problem.” The woman smiled at her elation, arms now crossed in front of her chest. She reminded Peridot of the ideal DJ. Frizzled and curled locks pushing up in an afro, shades concealing the depth of her eyes. “It’s nice to meet you, Peridot. Amethyst told me all about you.”

“Wait, hold on,” Peridot blinked at her, eyes continuing to scan her precariously for an answer, “you’re that Garnet, right? The one who’s friends with Amethyst?”

“That would be correct.” Garnet tipped her glasses, giving her a quick wink. “I’m that Garnet.”

Peridot went slack-jawed. It wasn’t usual for her to meet another dramatically, especially with this type of situation—although it did excite her. “You’ve had great timing. That sorry excuse of a pebble was practically threatening me for money just to repay his flimsy tech."

“And he would’ve run off with it too,” Garnet clicked her tongue, shaking her head. “That iPhone was already broken to begin with.”

Peridot tilted her head. Why would someone accuse her of the stupidest of things, especially if the phone was like that, to begin with? And then it clicked. “Oh.”

"Lucky for you, he knew what was best for him and left before I brought him in myself." It was an obvious tactic, something one could learn from looking up online. She couldn't help but feel shame. She was supposed to have this city pat-down but her lack of awareness is pulling her away from progress, away from the safety she's known and loved. Garnet didn't seem to notice, though, for she harbored a small smile on her lips—one that didn't read of malice or sympathy, but rather support. “You’d better be more careful next time, okay? Anybody could get messed with even after living their whole life in the city, so be kinder to yourself about it."

Her words pressed the feeling more into her chest. She nonetheless exchanged a smile of her own. “Of course I will. If anyone tried a hand on me I would've been incarcerated years ago.” Not bad for a first impression, for the two shared a small chuckle as the area started to disperse again for the next metro. After a few moments, Peridot finally noticed Amethyst in the crowd. She was resting on a tiled wall, talking to a stranger. “I wouldn’t want to keep Amethyst waiting. She’s the reason why we’re here in the first place.”

Garnet looked over too. “Alright, just keep what I’ve said in mind.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little transparency on our end, but we apologize for the wait! We weren't able to post a new chapter because one of our teammates got sick, but when she does come back, visuals for chapters will be added in later.
> 
> Now, if you didn't know by now, all of the chapter titles will be based on songs that correlate in some way towards the story. The crew decided to compile a Spotify playlist that will update with future titles as we finalize future portions of the narrative. This is just a fun thing for us to do in our spare time, but feel free to check it out! 
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0Em1ShtRuh7ldTmJGVzbiG?si=fvXpUslQRLS93sTietTOlA


	3. Walk on the Wild Side

Getting into Empire City University wasn't an easy feat. The process was collateral damage to spare time. Rigorous nights in front of the laptop, studying for AP exams with three hours of shut-eye to spare, clogging the schedule with scholarships that pushed away from the idea of the backburner. It was worth the price, even with the additional medication she had to garner to keep her blood pressure low.

The first day of orientation passed and nothing went awry, much to her satisfaction. A mix of boisterous banter, tedious team exercises, and the touring of the campus—a recipe for disaster that surprisingly never imploded. The orientation did have its perks. It overwhelmed her with opportunity and clubs and alumni at every turn, but the one she honed in on was the engineering branch—the mechanical kind. The mechanical engineering branch was what she signed up for, and she wasn't going to allow it to escape from her grasp now that she was present; she’d worked too hard just to be yanked from it.

Peridot made a few assumptions while trekking the buildings and study halls. One, the event focused more on the social groupings and physical communication of the student and the sheep. Emphasis on Greek organizations, fellowships, and the typical hypebeast of the orientators left her back aching from coiled joints. She had no use in collaborating with these people, but the university still believed it to be the essential piece of their programs. Two, people weren't interested with the eighties and nineties media such as Camp Pining Hearts—which was the most shameful and most common response Peridot had gained throughout her entire livelihood. Instead of asking questions, most were leaning towards the prospect of sororities and fraternities that resided in the province. It wasn't demoralizing, but annoying.

When the occasion finished, with the tents pitched into boxes and the campus excitement dozing off, she found some positives in the certainty that the event ended without any uproots in her plans. The sun was still perched in the sky. Hours were still available. There's no such thing as delay. She clutched the leaflets, ten of them being from the engineering FAQ, and ushered herself out of the premises. Her bag clung to her shoulder while she searched around for the bike lot. She didn't trust the public to keep her motorcycle safe and intact, so it was tucked in with the rest of the vehicles—padlock on.

She halted when she noticed movement. Her roommate, Amethyst, was jiggling the motorcycle behind the chainlink fence like a giant toy. She didn't look like she was tampering with it, more so jostling it without a sense of direction. She was bored. Maybe. Or waiting for her. “Are you planning to ride off with it?”

“Nah, I would die.” Amethyst looked up. She wore another tank top, the kind that made one wonder if it murdered a family of eggplants from how purple and splotched the design was. She shrugged, showing off the motorcycle with a pose. “I mean, I would do it in a heartbeat, but I didn't want to leave your sorry butt in school.”

“Nice to know you care about me.” Peridot scoffed. The motorcycle was in good shape; there were no scratches that signaled the blonde to get ready for war. Even after getting tugged by her roommate, it was still glistening with a sheen, not tampered with in the slightest. “What are you doing here anyway?”

“I thought you wanted to continue our Empire City tour?” The wrestler clapped her hand on the cycle's headlight. “We still got to cruise around Central Park!”

“Sounds delightful, but I'd rather not.”

“What?” Amethyst knitted her eyebrows. She leaned forward. “Why?”

“I’m going to familiarize with the material.” Peridot showed off the papers in her hand, crumpled but familiar enough for her roommate to see some form of importance in it. Other than that, her book bag was bunched to the brim with letters, pamphlets, and applications—she swore that the bag contrasted with the weight of a ball at this point. “I’ve barely scratched the surface with questions, so this is the next best thing.”

“Seriously? You have enough time to do that, Dot.” Amethyst scrunched her nose, shaking her head in disapproval. Ever since the instigation of the tours, she’s been pulling the poor girl into every restaurant and tourist attraction to boot, albeit only to the cheap and animated areas of the urban landscape.

“You don’t know that,” Peridot mumbled, kicking off the cycle’s stand with a swift jut of her leg. It tilted, orienting itself back into an upright position. “I’ve only a few days before the orientation ends, so I need this.”

Amethyst rolled her eyes, starting to climb onto the bike, much to the girl’s protests. “Three days, enough to hit the town before you get flooded with essays and that shit. Come on Peri, you can’t miss out on this!”

Peridot sighed. “I have no choice in this, huh?”

“Nnnope!” Amethyst grinned at her, even when the blonde was returning the sentiment with a glare. “Look, I’ll make it worth your while. I know a friend who can patch your bike up for a cheap price.”

“How cheap?”

“Enough so we don’t starve.” She answered, patting the front of the seat. “Trust me, they’re pretty good.”

Peridot looked begrudgingly at her. She’s an engineer herself, Amethyst knows this, but she couldn’t tell off her roommate nor push her out of the motorcycle. She was too stubborn, just like herself; she would gladly hold on to the motorcycle even when it’s moving, just for the sake of persuading her to drive to Chinatown. “Fine, but you’re leading the way.”

“Sweet!”

* * *

The Forge. It was a few miles away from the university, much to Peridot’s surprise. Amethyst didn’t seem too perturbed by it, she just held onto her and gave directions with the confidence of a tourist guide. There was reassurance from the whole situation; her schedule and motorcycle routes wouldn’t be too dubious after all. She could make some quick routes through the revealed boulevards, and get onto every point on the map without hassling in traffic. It was perfect, the type of thing she’d store in her mind for the future. Which she did.

Amethyst’s explanation of her friend got muffled by a menagerie of noise, but Peridot was able to distinguish a few details. Something about her friend being into engineering herself, and how she could bench press one’s neck if one ain’t careful. Interesting to listen to, but knowing Amethyst, concern was the main emotion she felt.

“She’s beefy as hell, I’m telling you.” She rambled on. Peridot occupied herself with the directions. She tapped her fingers on the handlebar now and then, waiting for her roommate to point a digit towards different streets ahead of them. She would, making the cycle swerve and delve deeper into Empire’s working district. “I should invite her to wrestle, she would love kicking people’s butts.”

“Duly noted, I’m not going to pester you nor your friends in my entire lifetime.” Said Peridot. The streets made way for businesses and the businesses made way to flocks of cars. The motorcycle squeezed between each gathering of vehicles, but the miles of traffic seemed endless—fading into the horizon like it was a mirage. She groaned. “Must be a car accident, we’ll just take another route.”

“There should be a lane we can drive into." Amethyst kept an eye on her phone, checking the gridlocks with her finger. Her smile tightened, a moan bubbling in her gut. “Yeah, another protest; go to the left, should take us out of here.”

After suffering a few missteps and suppressed wantings for road rage, they successfully squirmed out of the traffic jam and arrived at the location. It was an open space. An outlet that endured countless, bleaching hours under the sun. Numerous buildings kept their faded colors and beggarly attitude, but the parking lot was brimming with cars and activity, people passing by with carts and plastic bags—wanting to get home before the start of nightlife.

The two parked the motorcycle outside of the store. The logo of The Forge stood proudly on the building as its main insignia, even with its languid state of color. Peridot flung herself off the cycle and walked over to the door. It was agape, the glass welcoming them with a small sign that read 'Open for Bismuth'—the last two words in bold red marker.

“You’ll love her, trust me,” Amethyst reassured when they entered. A smug stench hit her in the nostrils, the impressive coagulation of petrol and must. It was a typical auto shop. Conjoined garages harbored automobiles, some lifted on platforms, and others idled with their workers. The sting of hydraulics and the bitter heat brought a grin to her lips. The place had a familiar—almost nostalgic—vibe, reminding her of frazzled wires and tractor exhausts.

“Holy moly, it can’t be.” Peridot almost jumped out of her skin at the rise in voice. A woman, appearance threatening to capture both of their views completely, hunkered over to them with a swish of her wench. She towered over them like a bear to a fox, and Peridot felt cold slivers from the height difference alone. If she added the full scope of her physique...

Then Amethyst wasn’t joking about the bench pressing fact.

Her roommate was swooped into a bone-crushing hug. The repair woman let out a hearty laugh as Amethyst whooped, hollered—and possibly choked—in the process. “Amethyst, it’s nice to see ya’ here! How long has it been?"

"Wayy too long!" She grinned up at her.

"Heck yeah, it's been waayy too long! Three weeks, _three_! I thought ya' fell off the face of the Earth."

“Maann, I would never—ow—miss an opportunity to see ya’!” Amethyst jostled in her friend’s grip. The two threatened to swing in tandem from the squeeze. Peridot wondered if it was too late to back out of the shop in the awkwardness. Just backtrack, reverse, skid out like a drunken teen on the highway. She didn’t want to get crushed by a woman who could kill a rattlesnake with a simple squeeze. She was then brought into an embrace as well.

“Aaand who’s this pipsqueak?” Peridot groaned in the vice of her arms. It wasn't strong like her mother's, but it was enough to crush her hopes and dreams. "An amigo? A compadre?" 

“The name's—ghck—Peridot!” She gasped out. The woman put her down with a small ‘oops’. “I'm not a pipsqueak!”

“Ohhh, we got a wild one here.” She ruffled Peridot's hair. Her toothy grin reflected the joy in her eyes, hidden by the lens of mechanic goggles. “I like you already!”

“Yeah, I knew you two would hit it off.” Amethyst snickered, giving her roommate's shoulder a small tap. “P-Dot, how's the first impression on Bismuth, huh?”

How was she supposed to respond? All she could feel was pain. She shot her a weary look. “The first impression almost lead to my autopsy.”

Bismuth chuckled, rubbing her neck in embarrassment. “Sorry about that, I get excited easily, especially with new pals on the block.”

One would think that, with such a heavy metropolis, the average person would distaste the plethora of strangers around every corner. That didn’t seem to be the case. “I can see that.”

The mechanic chuckled, pushing her goggles up until it hit the band that held her inky dreadlocks together. “But yeah, nice to meet ya’, Tiny.” Bismuth shook her hand, giving her a small wink. On closer inspection, her dark skin had tiny drops of oil that were waiting to be wiped clean. “Not the best way to get introduced, but hey, it's a welcoming one!”

“No kidding.” Peridot smiled at her. She brushed off the ‘Tiny’ name for now. “I just didn't expect to be bear-hugged in an auto shop. I would prefer more mechanic talk."

“Expect the unexpected.” Amethyst piped in. “You should know this by now, Perichute.”

“Don't call me that.”

“Never!”

“Now now, “ Bismuth calmed them down. “But yeah, what brings you two here? If it’s a loan then—”

“No, no loans or anything,” Amethyst reassured her. She nudged Peridot in the side. “Just wanted my new roommate to meet a fellow engineering dork.”

Bismuth’s face beamed at the blonde. “Really? What university are ya’ studying at?”

The answer was like clockwork. “Empire City University.”

“A fellow ECU engineer, sweet!”

Peridot gave her a starry-eyed look, voice rising an octave. “You study engineering there too?”

The woman tapped the wench at her puffed chest. “I’m a third-year myself; I don’t have many friends in the field, so it’s great to see another one in the wild.”

“Are you available for study sessions? I’d like a buddy system that is more enthused with the curriculum than what’s given to me.” Peridot asked her. She raised an eyebrow at Amethyst’s gleaming smile on the side.

“Of course! Friends need to stick together after all.” Bismuth smiled. It did feel like she was making friends in this city.

“Also Bis, what’s with the protests today?” Amethyst jumped into the conversation, pointing a thumb at an unknown corner of the shop. “We’ve been botched in traffic because of them, and it’s getting really annoying.”

Bismuth frowned. It was weird to see her without her toothy smile. “Oh, just some arguing with the Authorities. It should lift after about a few hours; you know how dedicated people are to roasting their asses.”

“A few hours?” Amethyst groaned. “Welp, guess we’re making the best out of this visit because I ain’t staying there while traffic is high.”

“Did you forget that I have stuff to do?” Peridot shot her a look. "I can't stay for long."

“Why don’t you two just get a snack at the taco shop nearby?” Bismuth asked them, continuing to fidget with her tool like it was a baton. “I’ll be out and about in a few hours, so I can start up our first study session there too.”

Amethyst was already on board. "Sounds like a plan."

Amidst all of this, Bismuth gave a wink at Peridot, who hesitated, but then nodded back. One taco wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

  
Two weeks had passed since Peridot first acquainted herself with the city; countless study sessions and coursework filling her time ever since her schedule got finalized. It was smoother in execution than expected, and she was satisfied with how much progress she had under her name. Talks with the ECU career center and research into nearby internships became the norm, filling her days with different conversations and freelance work when she had the time.

Throughout it, Amethyst helped out with tours and recommendations for food. Sharing money had its perks, with them celebrating at The Temple and other free events in the city, which usually lead to her enduring comedy sketches at bars and volunteer events at the nearby parks; she even had distinct memories of her and Amethyst taking an entire buffet table home just to preserve their wallets. But Peridot preferred to take casual drives throughout the bustling districts. It was more personal this way. More sentimental in experience. She didn't have to wait on someone, she just had herself along for the ride. Empire City was her sandbox, a full-fledged Grand Theft Auto without the violence, and she wasn’t going to restrain herself from exploring now and then.

This time her roommate decided to bring her along for another bar run. She wanted to pick up a bag of drinks for the fridge back home and decided this was the best time to do just that. It was always to the same joint she resided in when her schedule became rigid and cluttered. Dionysus’s Crystal. It wasn’t hidden like a parasitic spore, but it clung to neon on a busy street. Vibrant but concealed under the beams of the day, and a glowing utopia of highs and lows in the night. The acrid smell of tobacco kept Peridot at a distance with each visit. The air tasted like alcohol and reminded her of mischief.

She flinched at the occasional shout and fragment of yelling from behind her. Even with such a sunny day, it felt witless. Another protest kept a few streets lively with cautious folk, the faceless identities intermingling with the infrequent passing of police cars. She never researched much on the demonstrations, but she preferred to stay away as much as possible. The whole thing kept her mind buzzing, words sounding electric to the eardrum—plus the crowding of countless men and women made her uneasy. Terms such as 'minimum wage' and 'Authorities' spurred her yearning for Amethyst to finish buying the booze so they could drive off. She glanced at the bar window.

Through the gleam of the glass, her roommate was plucking bottles from a bartender’s hand; must’ve been another vodka or beer. Each one five dollars apiece—if she haggled someone enough.

One bottle. Two bottles. Three bottles. Four—

A guttural roar welcomed the streets with shaking pavement and stinging ears. Peridot was pushed against the front of her bike handles. A sting resonated and burned in her stomach, trying to lift herself back into an upright position as she tried to regain her senses. She was still on her bike. Nothing hurt. But something in her gut dropped—that was the definite sound of an explosion. Turning around greeted the question of color. Everything looked wrong. Too bright. Too dark. And the screams of the protestors hit her like a heavy mallet. It wasn't nearby, thank God, but the plumes of smoke climbed above the rows of street buildings, spreading and covering the sun in a thin sheet of shadow. Where it took place didn’t matter, people were starting to bustle and flee from the asphalt, passing by her in groves while she choked her handles with bated breaths.

Even in the chaos, she stopped herself from revving out of the way. She needed to find her friend. Amethyst was clouded from view by the patrons, who are attempting to remove themselves from the bar in a clambered dash out the door. The blonde tried to find her in the waves of panic. She hissed under her breath, telling her to get out when a pressure dug into her shoulder. Fingers dug into her scapula. Her seat recoiled from a new weight in the rear.

“Drive.”

Her knuckles bleached white under the heat. The wails throughout it were thunderous, but the voice behind her was sharp—tense.

“Drive, now.”

Her body shook from the hold. Peridot tried to look back. When she did, the first thing she noticed was blue hair.

“DRIVE, MOTHERFUCKER!”

The motorcycle hurtled through the street. With poor Peridot in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, just a bit of an update with all of you, but since it takes a while for certain graphics to be made and updated with the writing of chapters, we decided it would be fair to post the chapters even without the graphics, and then alert all of you if the new graphic has been added. Not only does this give our artist more time and flexibility, but our readers will be able to see the chapters at a faster pace!


	4. It Ain't All Hugs and Handshakes

Peridot was writing her obituary.

It needed a title that would reap some form of sympathy from people—something melancholic, maybe cynical.

_Twenty-year-old university student died diving off the highway with a psychotic individual?_

_First-year’s auto-related death being investigated by police (blue-haired suspect in questioning)?_

They didn’t sound right to her, but what was the point of even panicking now? Her mind was flipping like a beached sardine, trying its best to rationalize. To think. To process. But it was a balancing act. She carried herself through boulevards, zipping through elm-aligned thoroughfares like a processing unit; one misstep could lead to her and her kidnapper ramming into a brick wall and going brain dead on impact. Sounded delightful. She wasn’t planning on dying tonight, however.

Turns. Turns everywhere. Down the avenue, boulevard, past the blurred faces peddling the lanes. It was a miracle that no one pulled her over; if only she could have the gall to kick the body grappled behind her, holding her tightly by the waist. Thinking was a chore at this point. It was hard to calm down with how sharp her breath had become, the world seeming to stretch and narrow to nothing but keen points in her mind. Death felt certain, awaiting her casualty like a patient embrace from the elderly to the young. Ready to take her while inebriated on dread.

She jolted at the sputter of her motorcycle. It rumbled and shook, the blurred landscape becoming more coherent and focused. It was on its last drops of oil; ready to flip the both of them off if she didn't slow down. And so she did. She released pressure from the foot pedal, the vehicle stuttering with each inch it took. The urban landscape died down to rolling businesses, fields growing in abundance to the eyes. She must have gone farther than she thought.

“Welp, thanks for the ride.” The weight behind her teetered until the heaviness lifted itself with ease. She looked back and spotted the maniac in question, who was stretching her legs, stiff joints cracking in a tune.

She didn't remind her of a stereotypical gang banger. She was skinny, frail. Colored fingers dancing through her hair, blue to the touch with each tip of ruffled strand. Her leather jacket covered her figure, the logo of the Rolling Stones peaking from the open gap. Patched and mangled jeans fit her like strips from a burlap sack. More like a hobo that was stuck in the 1960s, if she was being honest.

Snapping out of her rambling mess of a mind came next, and noticing the woman stroll away came after. She would’ve walked away too on a good day, but a good day would not involve being yelled at by a gang member to drive one hundred miles an hour. Who did she think she was? An easy target for a joyride away from a crime scene?

She streaked forward, catching her by the collar. The girl turned around, expression mute. “Is that all you have to say? What in the stars were you thinking, jumping on my motorcycle without a helmet!”

The girl blinked at her. Her muted expression was gone now, but it seemed to be replaced with something else: bemusement—funny how confusion could make Peridot even more frustrated than she should be. “What?”

“Screaming into my ear like I was a taxi driver,” she wildly motioned towards the motorcycle itself, “in the middle of chaos. You're lucky that I didn't buck you off!”

The woman snorted. Her face soured up like she just witnessed a slug spew out from her lips. Was this just a joke to her? “Yeah, sure you can.”

“Was that a challenge?” The blonde growled, tapping at the woman's chest with impertinent fervor.

She furrowed her eyebrows at her, cracking a smile. “Does it look like I'm challenging you?”

Peridot stifled. “...No?”

“Then you shouldn't point a finger at me.” Peridot faltered, the woman relaxing her gaze in return. “Priorities are a bit messed up though. Worrying about helmet safety first, really?”

“I shouldn’t hear complaining from a person like you.” She strode over to the motorcycle. The gauge was stuck in the red, something she could've avoided if she bought more oil cans; there weren’t any left in the niche of the vehicle. She rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Well, you’re going to hear me complain anyway.” Lapis sauntered over, letting out a small whistle. “Nice bike by the way.” She tapped at the headlight. “I wish I could have stuff like this.”

Peridot glared at her. Something about her touching her property irked her. Must be the fact that she looked so unkempt—or the fact she almost killed them at high speeds. “Hands off.”

She pulled away with a chuckle. “Alright then, I won't get between you and your bike.” Even with the reply, Peridot flared up.

“This ain't funny, bozo.” The blonde gritted her teeth. “You're coming with me to the nearest gas station!”

“Wait, why would I?”

“Because, wise guy, unless you're planning to walk or hitchhike, this vehicle's going nowhere.” Peridot rapped her knuckles against the hidden tank. “So you better start moving it or so help me.”

The woman shot her a wry look. “Or so what? You'll threaten me to the police?”

Yes, yes she will. “You'd be surprised at how many key witnesses I know.”

The woman returned a dull-eyed stare. “I doubt that.”

“I don't care; I want to go home.” Peridot got behind the bike, nudging the back until she heard a crackle of the asphalt. The breeze brushed against her face, flinching from its warm embrace. “Now come on."

Any complaints uttered against her were discarded quickly. They just kept pushing, the wheels gaining traction with each bump it overcame—the whole trip lacking the sharp conversation she thought would spark in an instant like before. She was relieved when the lady didn't respond at all. Made the entire trip easier on her end. Made it quiet and contemplative.

At that point they had driven farther out than Peridot's average drive; the plains and small-town cafes passing them by in sparse views. Taking into account the area, she halted the teamed effort to check out her phone, finding a nearby gas station they could go to—and when she says “near” she means five miles away. They kept on.

Few cars would pass by (a few she would try to recall from memory): a grey truck hooked with a trailer, a sleek Lamborghini, and a sleepy family wagon hindered by luggage on its roof like a pack mule. Wild grass ran in static waves, coming in view every few minutes they persevered. If the grass wasn't present then hills decorated her view with lush green, trees making their homes on sleek patches of turf. It was boring, to say the least. She loved the pent-up attitude of the city, but wherever they were fit more of a pit stop than a suburban paradise. Empire City was supposed to have surging suburbs outside of its central hub—it was part of their history too, but there were no Levittowns to fit this area of rural sprawl. She blamed her luck for allowing them to be deserted on land that Empire didn’t develop. Pure shoddy luck.

“Okay, this is too quiet.” Peridot looked over at the girl next to her, who's voice rang aggravation. Beads of sweat were already forming on her hairline, and the beating-down rays from the sun made it loud and clear that this was going to be a long day. “Why can't we just talk? It'll make the entire thing go faster.”

Peridot pondered. She did have a point. Passing by while focusing on the tension in her arms and legs would only make the entire experience miserable. “Then what are we supposed to talk about?”

She scoffed. “Something interesting. Y'know what, let's start with something simple. What's your name?”

“Peridot.”

“Lapis.” She now had a name to her. It wasn't a comforting thought but it gave her something to peruse in her mind—something to dismantle and comprehend. Now that she had a closer look at her, though, she looked vaguely familiar. “See? It isn't that hard.”

“It's also not hard to be polite,” said the blonde.

A few scrunched stares threatened to derail the conversation, but Lapis continued. “Back there, with all the shit going on; did you know why that happened?”

Peridot bit her lip. “You're meaning to tell me you didn't know?”

“What?” Her voice rose an octave. Peridot just kept nudging forward. “Of course I'd know! What I meant was if _you_ knew.”

For all the qualities she gave to Lapis, she didn't enjoy the idea of entertaining her questions. Besides, she was never the one to delve into politics; why get involved when you could just tinker with machinery in a hole elsewhere? “No. I don't know.”

“Nothing?” She hesitated. “No one told you what was going on?”

“Only thing I know is that it had to do something ‘bout the minimum wage,” Peridot drawled. She wished the gas station was closer—closer and expectant with water for she was beginning to experience vertigo (or was it nausea?). “I only been here for a few days, I've no clue.”

Lapis cracked her a languid smile. “I could tell, still have a bit of Tejan in you.” The dazed look from the blonde made her stiffen. “Is it Tejas or—”

“Derby. Your first mistake was believing that I got conceived in the Lone Star State.”

“Smart words there.” She mumbled.

They kept themselves forward. Peridot occasionally thumbing the phone screen in her pocket. It kept her mind occupied with each length of the asphalt. Five miles went from three and then to just one. The gasoline station was an oasis of the Empire outskirts; the fading sheen of the shell welcoming them as they perched the bike at the petrol pump. Ten minutes was enough for Lapis to saunter over to the store, promising to bring back snacks and bottles while Peridot eyed the fuel gauge with the valve snapped in place. She clicked her tongue before pulling the nozzle.

Lapis returned with a plastic bag, a bottle somersaulting and landing into Peridot’s clammy hands. “Is it set?”

“Hold on.” Peridot halted her before she could get on. She pulled a small toolset from the cache under the seat, propping on her knees to check the mirror-sheened underbelly. “We rode this poor guy on full throttle, I wouldn’t be surprised if you broke the wet clutch, give me a minute.”

Lapis kept her eyes on her, watching her tinker with the vehicle with meticulous duty before she drifted off elsewhere. The station handled a few passing cars, roving away after a quick stop; it was longing in a way, a reminder of how far they were from the city. The recollection of the way back home was weary, fuzzy to the core. Remembering any part of the way home just lead to frustrating hazes of concaved streets, the pop-up of an intersection, then to the fizzling accuracy on whether she saw a U-turn or not. She must’ve been going senile at this point.

The blonde pulled herself up.

“Is it good to go?” Lapis said.

“Good to go.” She tucked the tools back into her kit. Her back was facing her, arms taut. “It’s a miracle that nothing broke. I expected it to just break down when the air hit the engine, but you didn’t break it.”

“I also discovered a miracle: I didn’t expect a Southerner to know how to repair a motorcycle, let alone ride one.” Lapis mused. “You surprised me.”

Peridot put the kit back under the seat. “Funny,” she said. She idled by the motorcycle, facing her with a dry stare. “I also didn’t expect a crazy woman threatening me to drive away from a ‘tranquil’ protest; oh how small our world is.”

Lapis’s smile hardened. “Smart mouth for a country girl.”

“Quick judgement from a juvenile protestor.”

The aftermath sparked a quick draw: two characters stiff by the shoulders, ready to stare down the other until one of them yielded. She didn't know how long the draw went, but she knew for a second who lost. Lapis did. For her laugh was of a symphony; something that lifted the tension like a feather on air. Peridot thought she was going crazy from the heat, but she was surprised to find herself going along with the cacophony—shy in octaves and cackles. The heat. The heat must have been the culprit. It reminded her of Jay Gatsby, poor Jay Gatsby with his confrontation with good ole’ Tom Buchanan: how the rise in weather coerced a want for venting, physical or otherwise. In this case, they were hysterical—pure messes of blubbering, questionable laughter.

She was starting to hate this city.

Lapis stopped. Like an audience dying down after a stiff joke, Peridot did as well. It unnerved her. Something about it tugged at her heartstrings, tugging at it with the volatile rhythm of a man on fire. This woman in front of her threatened safety; at this point, she didn’t want to stay. Lapis grabbed a card from her jacket pocket and placed its surface—white and clean—on top of the motorcycle headlight. She motioned her to come forward. “Pen.” Lucky for her, the blonde stored an array of colorful pens under the seat. A quick exchange of a ballpoint and she started to write.

In a few seconds of deliberation and the woman mumbling words under her breath, she pulled away. With the flick of Lapis' hand, board between her digits, Peridot was handed a business card. It was the type of card Peridot would categorize as ‘an error in artistic freedom’. There were poppish pastels in bleeding tones, splotches of paint sitting in the corners of the design, and a thin impression of a silhouette beside the text in blazing attention. The text in the center screamed ‘ **RAINBOW STAND UP** ’ with the form of pride one would think could only be mustered from a person shouting over a canyon. After a moment of viewing it, she flipped it, noticing written numbers on the back-end. A phone number to be specific. 

With the card in her hand, the familiarity hit her. The woman right in front of her harbored the same face weeks ago. On the day when they met, back when she was just moving in, where her ID fit between the same slender digits, with the stranger before now filled in with a name and an expression to spare. “What—”

“It's my number.” Lapis's tone was sincere, tinged with the same amusement that rubbed her the wrong way. “If you ever want to know more about what's going on, call me.”

She wondered if Lapis was on some form of drug. A normal person, in this type of situation, would’ve just handled the other nicely from fear of getting harassed before dipping out of their existence, never to be seen again. But she took the card and brushed its surface with her thumb. She even twiddled it. She let it reflect coatings of sheen in the sunlight as Lapis resumed back to the bike. “I know you’ve been hauling my ass around and you’re starting to hate it at this point, but could you drop me off at my place?”

“Do you think I give free handouts?” Peridot said.

“Look, I’ll make it up to you when we get back.” She hauled herself onto the motorcycle. “What if I treat you to some dinner tomorrow? Since you’re a newbie around here it would help to preserve some of that cash you have there.”

It did sound like an offer she couldn’t refuse. There was still that nagging feeling, however, crawling down her neck; going to dinner with a stranger—who had the possible intention of maiming her—didn’t sound enticing. She would’ve called the police if her nonchalantness for the woman didn’t pull through. There was also the question of why. Why would she go this far, even after everything? “Fine. Let’s go.”

The crack of sunset was noticeable when they came back. The streets were paved with shadows, windows gleaming gold as they drove by. Time passed. For Peridot it felt longer. It felt like it took an entire day, with her stamina along with it. At the turn of the hour, she was surprised to find Lapis leading them back to her apartment building. Peridot’s building. The same one sitting at the corner of Avenue Diamond. Just a few doors apart. When they got to Lapis’s place, something musty stuck in her throat as the woman closed the door behind her. She stood out front, eyes askew with the world, trying to make sense of what just happened. Under the glint of the hall, there was the room plate. 19. It was a wake-up call for her, a lesson born out of the absurd.

Empire City finally felt small.


	5. One Mint Julep

Coming back home to a worried Amethyst was one of the things Peridot didn’t expect to encounter that night. When she returned home, Amethyst—bewildered and troubled with a phone in her palm—ran over and carried out a barrage of questions. The type of questions that disorientated her, feeling more alien and jittery than the moment she and Lapis departed. It left her relieved when her roommate decided to let her settle in.

She did explain to her the details the morning after, but it lead to a new slew of questioning (“Did she have a gun? Is she part of a gang? I might know her if you give me her description.”) that she didn’t want to deal with. It was the main reason why she didn't utter anything about the dining invitation Lapis brought up before. Amethyst would've had a field day with it and Peridot preferred mornings where she wasn't reminded of it every single day, which was becoming a problem. Her days were plagued with thoughts of the card. Its shiny surface. Its crinkled inked back. Something so tiny and insignificant that one might've just thrown it away at this point. But she didn't. It just rested on her table, doing absolutely nothing. 

There were times where she tried to fight it. After overcoming a great deal of difficulty with her new schedule, Peridot would usher herself into a period of panic regarding the digits. It was like harboring an elephant, watching it wreck her thoughts and personal space with opportunities—a free meal and the prospect of bringing a bad influence into her life. She would then pace in her room, the sound of the clock outside resonating more and more. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Each second passed was a second wasted. She tried planning out strategies in her head, formulating methods to tackle the fever dream on her table, only to forget it soon afterward when university days landed her with more work. Rinse and repeat, day by day, but now she couldn’t leave it be when Wednesday approached.

It explained the fidgeting when she decided to call. Sweat on her brow and anxious like a wrangled goat, she kept Lapis on the line as they decided on the destination to meet. Dionysus’s Crystal. The same bar-slash-restaurant that reeked of citrus and tobacco. Now, that begged the question of why she would have them meet there, but she went nonetheless.

Peridot was never the type to smoke. Or drink. Or harbor any narcotics. Anything illegal was out of the picture (she did have a history of being banned from her town breakfast shack, but that was beside the point). What was relevant to her was the meeting with Lapis and the fear of the food getting tainted by the nicotine-clouded atmosphere. But she needed food back home, so she pushed iffiness aside.

Arriving at the establishment, she preoccupied herself at a table. She never was the one to procrastinate or keep someone on hold, so she waited, keeping an eye out for any tufts of blue hair that could walk through the door in an instant. From previous judgments, the place wasn't that bad. The dim browns and lacquered hazelwood relaxed her to the sweet lilt of jazz. Rows of upended glasses gleamed behind bartenders and their eased smiles. There weren't any drunkards that pestered or clambered for attention, the denizens were in their own worlds. They kept themselves in hazy conversations: a buff woman loitered in the vestibule, a gnarled war veteran hogged him and his beer at a distance in the corner, and a make-shift table packed six people with stories of adulthood, gossip, and the sad reality that ‘life just sucks’.

A bell tinged. She straightened up after a glance at the door. Lapis Lazuli strode in with the same jacket, with the same jeans. At the sight of Peridot, her face glowed red under the bar light, and the hazardous movement of her legs reminded her of a jaded walker. Peridot motioned her over. She sat down with a clunk of the seat.

“You’re looking sharp,” said Peridot.

Lapis gave her a weary look. “I guess. The day was a disaster.” She took out her wallet. The stretched leather of the shoulder bag that accompanied her threatened to spill by a few threads loose, but she handled it without a care and placed it on the table for convenience sake. “Almost got run over by a stupid driver—little shit thought it would be funny to not look where he was going.”

The blonde flinched. It’s still weird to hear somebody curse, especially after living with an untainted family for most of her years. “Harsh. I thought Empire was strict with rules.”

Lapis snorted, a dry laugh on her lips. “With a city this big? You’re better off getting arrested in a ghost town.” She pulled out pieces of cash from the wallet pockets. She acted elegantly even with the pent-up frustration. “Did you already have an order in mind? Tuna melt? Bologna?”

“Not really.” If she was being honest, she didn’t even peruse the menu that was above the bar table; she was busy watching the patrons talk about meaningless garbage. “I was just waiting for your butt to come here so we don’t have to get in line a second time.” It was a half-lie, but a good one at that.

“I'm here now, so you better bring up an order quick,” Lapis said. “I'm not the type to wait.”

Peridot peered at the menu. After an exchange of words, the other pulled herself away from the table, ordering their food at the counter while the blonde thumbed her empty glass in boredom. The chicken parmesan was going to be bagged up later, she thought. She wasn't going to pester with the idea of stuffing herself.

The two seated themselves with platters. Peridot eyed it, fork stringing lone strands with idlement; Lapis, on the other hand, savored her BLT, scarfing it down with the rustic grandeur of a lion with its prey. It made Peridot feel out of place. “Aren't you going to eat that?”

“I will.” Peridot kept her eyes on the plate. “I'm just...thinking about specifics.”

“You're not even being specific right now.” Lapis raised an eyebrow. Even with the relaxed atmosphere of the bar, the hidden whiff of alcohol made the blonde's head swim. “Are you sick or something? Then you can just—”

“No, no. I'm not sick, just confused,” Peridot kept at it, “about what happened—with the whole bike and protest predicament.”

“Huh.” She took another bite out of her BLT. "What are you confused about?”

The blonde wrinkled her nose. Communication is a must, she realized. “Just, why we're here right now? Nobody would treat a random stranger to some dinner at a bar, especially after pushing a bike for two hours.”

Lapis eyed her. Her BLT was already gone. “Just common courtesy. I felt a bit guilty over it—”

“ _A bit_?”

“Yes, _a bit_. Would you leave some poor guy hanging, making them take care of their gas problems after riding their bike?”

The blonde scowled. “I would never do that because I don't get involved in these situations in the first place.”

“But still, you would feel bad about it if it did happen," Lapis said.

Peridot kept her eyes on her. This entire set-up was just to apologize. Nothing of discordant intention or some type of sympathy ploy; it was just an apology meal. She had to let that sink in. "Okay," she sighed, the fork letting out a small clack down on the rim of the plate. "You have a point there. I would feel pretty bad."

A grin. "See? Now eat your pasta."

There it is. That same vigor and humored tone that frequented Lapis ever since the day they met, the same one that infuriated her yet pulled her in further out of curiosity. It kept Peridot restless, eyeing her throughout their talks while savoring the bites from her chicken.

Time passed and she still felt the same even with the change in customers and topics.

The conversations were smooth, not two-old-friends-meeting-up-again smooth, but enough for Peridot to note how their discussion moved and jumped from topic to topic. The talk of the city became news and gossip, and facts about machinery morphed into teasing and gripes about school. She was enjoying herself, which was the surprising part. She didn't have any reason to caution herself around her and she was glad that nothing went awry.

Lapis talked from a variety of subjects, but the thing that intrigued her was the advice that piled itself with each new remark and small talk laid down between them. Encouragements to take free events whenever she could, tips on persuading workers and colleagues, and keeping discount books that could be worth a billion in the eyes of a poor college soul. Musing this observation to her, the other responded accordingly.

“You need all the advice you can get with the city.” Lapis leaned in her chair, hand caressing a cold glass of julep—almost drained to the drenches. For Peridot, she gave herself sips of ice water. “If you don’t have any street smarts then you’ll just be a blind tourist waiting for someone to rob you of everything.”

“Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” she said, hunching over.

“Really?” Lapis raised an eyebrow. The sweet song of Charlie Parker flew through the bar, the tables around them lightening up with laughter as more adults strutted in after a long day of work. “Which places do you need to avoid?”

“Harlem, Bronx, Union Square, NoHo, the list can go on.”

“Close enough,” Lapis said. “But Harlem is a tad safer now in some areas, just gotta keep away from alleys and vacant lots.”

Peridot gave a small grin. Her headache wasn't prominent anymore, but the positive vibes of the bar were infectious. “Isn’t that just common sense, Lazuli?”

“It is, but people new to the city are so eager to do shortcuts when they have a schedule or something. Tourists are the worst of the bunch because they’re a one-time thing and hustlers know it.” She explained, emptying her glass. “You, though, you have a higher chance than some random tourist.”

The blonde smirked. “Thanks for the confidence boost.”

Lapis eyed her. “Don’t get too cocky or else you’re going to get hustled again.”

“Funny you should say that, Laz. When someone ticks me off, they’re not going to hustle me again.” Peridot said, giving a puff of her chest. However, she did wonder how bad the city could be. All of these negative images of knife-twirling, Empire-accented baddies made her feel like it was some sort of bluff, an exaggeration to scare off anyone from doing something stupid (which was probably the case). “But I will keep them in mind if you’re worried over me being a dunce.”

“Good, you better.” Lapis relaxed more at that, glancing over at her phone. After a few seconds, she pulled out her wallet. “We should get going, I don’t want to keep you waiting if you have anything important to do.”

Peridot started to clean up the table as well, bagging the remains of her food for a later date. Given the time (6:36), she was surprised to see the hours cascade forward without her noticing or even checking up on it throughout their talk. She was better than that—she was the most persnickety of her siblings regarding time and formation, but there was a part of her that just reassured her, saying that as long as she had a great night then nothing should be treated harshly in the long-term. And she didn’t.

Lapis, on the other hand, was looser in attire compared to the first minutes of them meeting up; she had her jacket open, hair more ruffled and wild from the asks for drinks, and didn’t seem to care when her purse attempted to spill all of its contents before saving it at the last minute. It was the type of nightmare of an appearance that would haunt Peridot in her dreams, but she was delighted to befriend someone in the city. Even if the person in question looked like a gang member with her leather apparel, her loose jeans, and…

“Stand still!”

Lapis jumped in her place. “What?”

“Is that a CPH t-shirt?!” Peridot's scream gained looks from the woman and the bar. But she was right, Lapis Lazuli, in her relaxed-fitting glory, had the familiar emblem on a white backdrop. The yellow font faded from time and peeling, but it was a lighthouse to Peridot—too bright for her to look away.

Lapis was dumb-founded. “Huh?”

“Oh my stars.” Peridot’s smile could’ve scared a child. “Camp Pining Hearts! Y’know, that one 80s show, the one situated in the hidden outskirts of Highland County?" She rose by an octave. "The best-dramatized experience of intimacy in a competitive setting between teenage adolescents!”

Lapis gave her another look. “I, I guess?”

"What do you mean 'I guess'? You're wearing the shirt!"

"I don't know what you mean."

At that moment, the blonde stopped. She noted the lack of enthusiasm. The confusion. It was plastered all over on the other's face. Then came the taste. It was the bitter taste of realization that she just went off the rails for a few seconds and looked like a mad man for the adults to see. She grimaced, rubbing her arm. “Okay, so you've never heard of it.”

“Yeah, I’ve never heard of it.” Lapis took in a breath, glancing down at her t-shirt.

Of course, she didn't know about it. Like every other adult and teen and clueless child on this forsaken planet Earth, she was clueless. It was like a God was testing her, teasing her, waving her own preferences around like a piece of bait. "I'm sorry about that."

"Hey, there's no need to apologize," Lapis chuckled. The sound was clunky, a stone attempting to move with the current. “You’re just excited, I guess.” The reassurance was lost on her, however.

One could brush off the idea of embarrassment, surely, but losing a potential acquaintance was the worst path she wanted to take right now. She knew by experience that going off into tangents didn't suit the people who were previously given a chance to peek into her life, and now she's doing it again. She looked hesitant, nudging towards the door in a hurry. “We should go now."

Lapis didn’t appear to protest when the two headed for the exit.

The outside was crisp at twilight. Peridot didn’t have to stick her head out for the wind to start prickling her skin in an instant, an icy rush that enthralled her and reddened the tips of her ears. Clouds pilfered overhead, the sunset vibrant in warmth. A new world—the world of grown-ups—was about to start; the laughing, plenty in the bar, being a forewarning.

The moment stifled the unease curling in her stomach as she lead Lapis out of the bar, the stinging scent of fruit and alcohol swarming her senses. A paradise a dog high on energy would love. But Peridot wasn’t a dog in this instance, so her mind wasn’t filled with energy, but anxiety over the fact that she almost went on a rant about a television drama in a bar full of tired-and-ready-to-keel adults.

“So that show you said.” Lapis started to walk, the other following her quickly. Where they were going, Peridot didn’t have a particular clue. “It’s your favorite, right? Camp Pine Hearts?”

“Camp Pining Hearts.” She corrected. “It’s the best of its kind.”

“Is that so?”

“There’s no doubt about it,” Peridot said, tone stiff. "But I'm more curious about where we're going than rambling on."

Lapis's expression was unreadable. "I don't mind. Keep going."

The blonde kept her gaze on her. She didn't know if the woman was just appeasing her. "You want to know?"

"Why not?" She asked. "It sounds interesting, so why not explain it?"

Peridot couldn't help but laugh. “Explain it? I can't just simply explain it, Lazuli."

"Why not?"

"The genre of drama is an intricate story narrative," she said. "It can be used numerous times without fail, and CPH found a way to weave the perspectives of each character into a tight and non-exhausting plot, but it's so extensive that it'll take hours for me to explain it in its entirety.” She looked up, waiting for a reaction.

“Go on.”

Peridot kept going.

* * *

“And the overall theme of intimate connection even with the boundaries of emotional capacity and physical circumstances are apparent throughout every plotline. Except season five since Percy abandons his team members on a boat just because of some ridiculous infatuation and _then_ tries to make amends with shooting fireworks on their cloddy beach and—wouldn't you know it—the entire arc was pointless! Can you believe that?"

“Yep, makes a lot of sense,” Lapis said. The apartment lobby was stuffy, their shoes clicking on the tiled floor.

Even after they left the establishment—Peridot having a second helmet spared just for this occasion—the blonde continued with her ramblings like they harbored the solution to end world hunger. In her mind, it probably was with how enthusiastic she was about it. Lapis, once again, didn't seem to mind. "I know, right? Just derails the characterization of Percy even more after what happened with the season opener."

"Yep."

“And don’t forget about the infamous ‘I don’t need you’ scene!”

“Yeah, true.”

"Are you even listening?"

"Half-listening," Lapis admitted, pressing the button for their floor.

Peridot gave her a once-over. Even with the eye-bleeding light of the elevator, she could tell the woman was relaxed. More relaxed than her usual appearances, anyway.

"But I am curious about this show," Lapis said, letting out a small cough. "Wouldn't hurt to see a few episodes. Not much I can do back home right now." The elevator came to a halt, both of them walking out into the hall.

"You're serious?"

"Why wouldn't I be?"

There were many reasons why she wouldn't. But something stopped her though. It wasn’t her gut or the ache in her mind, it was something else entirely. Peridot didn’t want to believe the chance that she did have a genuine interest, however, she didn’t want to take that chance away. "Would you be interested in a marathon, then?"

A curt nod.

“Okay then, I’ll get the episodes ready.” Peridot zipped over to her door.

Amethyst's job usually extended into graveyard shift, so the apartment was cleaned up, with no spills or signs of finished video game jams. Except for the half-filled water bottle that laid on its side in the hallway.

The blonde walked over, gave the bottle a new home at the coffee table, and started to work on the television. The television wasn't the best in the world—it looked more like a scratchy post-board lengthwise—but it was enough, enough for a few seasons and the basic gist of analysis she loved to gabble away with. Her cassettes were filed in a plastic bin below the set, cleaned away from dust.

"I still can't believe you're my neighbor." Lapis chuckled behind her. Looking back, Peridot could see her adjust on the couch, stretching like a cat. "I thought it would be just a one-off thing with meeting you, but what are the odds fate would have us living in the same place?"

She could agree on some things. Of course, she still didn’t feel safe with her in the apartment, but she chalked it up to nerves. "Not fate, but circumstance."

"Whatever, it's the same thing." She glanced at the television. "How active do you keep your TV services on?"

It was a question that perplexed Peridot more than anything. "Four times a week? Why?"

"You must have some pretty good money on your hands if you're able to handle that," said Lapis. Before she could nestle herself into a nap, the television sputtered static.

After a few more moments of tinkering, the Camp Pining Hearts logo sparked on the screen in a fizz of grainy film, chiming, "Last time on Camp Pining Hearts!" with the same feminine voice Peridot was keen and nostalgic for. It was her time.

Plopping right beside Lapis, the blonde shot her a dazzling grin—toothy and jagged. "Allow me to knock your socks off, Lazuli!"

* * *

Peridot was built for lengthy binge watches of her favorite show. Back at home, she would devour two seasons per week, keeping a consecutive schedule that coincided with a mix of study-hard-and-binge-harder attitude that contrasted a lot with her own siblings' weekdays. The eldest of her brothers, Junior, went out on long trips abroad that left the house one member short each day. The second oldest, Patrick, would complain about statistics and kept a pocket Rolodex just for emergencies. The others followed a similar style. They kept themselves busy and never fancied stuff she watched, which was the nature of siblings now that she pondered about it.

Her mother was to blame: she, as well, grew up to love the wacky and convoluted love triangles of the shows she watched and gave Peridot the satisfaction of sitcoms at the ripe age of five and she hasn't stopped babbling about it ever since. For many, it was considered annoying. For her, it was just a taste of comfort after a long night of AP studies and testing. A glass of fine wine at the end of a laborious day.

The night came and lingered in the living room. The two were focused on the television—relaxed and talkative (on Peridot’s end)—with each episode that passed by. Characters got introduced and placed into plots of high drama and romance and festered stories that made the blonde more talkative than a teenage girl. Every sound of drama and quick wit left her rigid or cackling, the declarations of war and love possessing the same expectations of wildlife chaos that has become the main staple to its name.

However, she did grow uneasy when Lapis didn’t seem to react much; if there was a moment of heartfelt intention she would pop in with a comment that ranged from personal to quips, which reassured Peridot with the whole atmosphere between them, but not much. It was too quiet. Too stiff. Too awkward for her tastes.

After a moment, she spoke up. “Why do you have that shirt?”

Lapis looked at her. Her expression seemed to blurt out the confusion. “The CPH one?”

“Yeah.”

“Got it from the thrift store.” She relaxed back into the cushions. They were slowly lulling themselves into a languid state of mind. The cushions held them with care. “Cheaper than the brands at the shopping centers, to be frank.”

“Huh, never thought about that.” She forgot that people would take any type of shirt at this point, even brands they were able to avoid hearing about until the peak age of adulthood.

Lapis nodded, covering a yawn. “Mm, yep, you have to keep an eye on the money in this place. A lot of people in the city are struggling to make-do since rent and taxes aren’t the best. Hell, it’s a dog-eat-dog scenario right now.”

“True.” The city was massive, competition bountiful and relentless, she wouldn’t be surprised if there was a ‘Survival of the Fittest’ mentality. “My mom always thought that mentality was stupid. ‘People have ta stick together or else they’re drownin’ friendships down under’.” The last sentence tinged with drawls.

Lapis’s giggle filled the room. “She must be a cool mom then. Usually, people would succumb to the whole competition mentality, but many do like to stick to a moral compass.”

“Who wouldn’t stick to morality?” Peridot scoffed. “You must be pretty desperate to get stuff you don’t want.”

Lapis gave a sharp nod, eyes lulling a bit more from the television light. “Desperate...yeah.”

The stiff atmosphere came back; who was Peridot kidding, it was always there, looming around for the next word uttered from her mouth, and she was getting sick of it. “But that doesn’t mean it’s a bad connotation, more so of a circumstantial thing. Heck, my father grew to have a more hands-on and humble approach to life because of his circumstances, the guy had to climb from rock bottom.”

The other looked at her with fatigue but ushered another nod to keep her going.

“Imagine this… Being bullied from day one at elementary—clods saying he ain’t worth the time—and then getting motivated to engineer, study, and improve physically because of my mom beating the stars out of them.”

“Holy shit,” Peridot jumped when Lapis piped up. “I didn’t know this was going that way, but I’m all ears now.”

“Finally, it looked like you were going to die on me at some point.”

“Then you must be glad I—” Lapis’s phone rang out in front of them, its bright interface adding to the eye-gouging night. “Hold on.” She took it. After a few seconds of staring at the screen, she stood up, excusing herself to the bathroom down the hall.

A few scuffles of her feet and she was gone.

Peridot was alone. She was hesitant on being the type of person to continue a show at this rate, so she paused the episode, entertained by a single frame.

The night kept her company. The rhythm of the clock. The moonlight (or was it city lights?) crawling through the blinds. The wanting to be patient was all there. But even with the stagnant illumination, the weariness of the situation was gone. What replaced it was worry; Lapis, before leaving for the restroom, had a frown adorned on her face—knitted eyebrows and all.

She tried to brush it off. Maybe she got a phone call from a friend? she reassured herself. But it extinguished when Lapis came back. She looked tired, buttoning up her jacket, straightening her spine.

"Sorry, Peridot, I have to go to work."

Peridot gave her the casual 'goodbye' as the woman hooked her bag and left with a small wave. The apartment went quiet again. The blonde, slouched into the cushions, let out a bereaved sigh. Camp Pining Hearts continued without her.


	6. East Side Beat

With her settling into the city and its world, she adjusted accordingly. The routine began.

Get dressed. Drop off here. Grab items there. Squats and lunges. CPH sessions. Habits high and consecutive. Do it all before the time resets to mark another fulfilling day—no matter how ‘un-fulfilling’ moments were. And this would continue with each passing mark on her calendar, marking appointments with her counselor and buying booze for her roommate, with the addition of bringing bags of groceries back home with sparse freelancing hours to spare. The rush of adrenaline. The jotting down of checklists that resided on her desk. Each discipline carried out with no note hanging sour.

After a few more weeks of this, the unexpected happened: it became mundane.

She wished it didn’t, but the patterns gave way to imprints with each new moment that passed, until the blonde began to notice the repetition of it all; even finding the differences in how her time played out was beginning to aggravate her.

She loved order, she never wanted to be disproven of that fact, but something was bubbling under the surface. Something strong. Something minuscule. If one backed up and saw the expansive scale of her decisions on pinpricks of lined dominos, it was enough to tip a single piece to fate’s favor, starting a long-winding solid chain that wouldn’t end until something paid for the price.

Curiosity was the starting point.

It was a subtle push. It was a craving for something different that lead for her and Amethyst to take an entire day to talk, listing out areas for them to drive to, to take a breather in. Not too expensive and not too restricted.

“Aqua Mexican has some pretty good gumbo.”

“I’m not interested in restaurants.”

“Hmmm, what about Chilly Glass—”

“I’m not interested in getting drunk.”

“Man, you’re cold today.” The two of them were lounging in the living room (if you called a half-study half-binge a form of lounging), occupying their respective sofas. Peridot was propped with a laptop, writing down a rhetorical essay while her roommate gazed at a new session of Marble Olympics—which was exactly what it sounds like—with a flask between her thighs. “If you don’t want food or drinks or whatever, are you looking for nature or entertainment?”

“Just anything interesting.” Peridot looked up from her screen. Her hair was growing a bit unkempt as of late, hence the small scratches here-and-there to the back of her neck. “Something you haven’t shown me yet but can tickle my fancy.”

The wrestler scratched her chin. “Jeez, that’s some good info you got there, doc.”

The month was still prolonged and tedious for them. Something about it—alongside the beating sun—made the idea of walking out very dissonant. Who wouldn’t want to see new places in such a static period, where a lack of news and activities melted to nothing? On the other hand, they preferred to stay away from the humid circumstances of the outdoors—not out of laziness but spite towards the weather.

For Peridot, it was one of the first instances where her home town was more attractive than the reflective and damp feelings of the city. At least, in Derby, she would have something to do while zipping away to finish all of her farm chores. Picking animal droppings sounded appealing too. “Just anything, probably something exhilarating.”

The sentence threw itself around the cogs of the wrestler’s mind. Peridot believed it was just her taking in the information and letting it pass through unretained, but she popped out of that expression fast, sitting up immediately with the drink in hand. “I know what you need.”

“Huh?” Amethyst was already gathering her things, leaving the other confused. “Amethyst, can you please tell me what you’re planning?” Her voiced edged with caution.

The tone her roommate settled with was full of excitement, but something about it chilled Peridot to the bone. “We’re going on a little road trip.” Yep, it terrified her now.

Of course, the Southerner didn’t know what she was planning, but with the orders to gather up the bare minimum—wallet, flannel, ignition, and junk food—they hopped onto Peridot’s bike and scouted out an address Amethyst had on her GPS. Questions were silenced by her reassurances.

The wind torrented their ears, whistling harsh tunes as they followed the streets to the highway. Peridot noticed the directions in detail. The ride wasn’t long, but each turn and neighborhood felt foreign to her. She always kept to the more well-known sections of Empire, but they were rolling into parts of the jungle that made her lose a sense of positioning like they were delving into the Amazon’s harshest ways of living. The skyscrapers trickled into short-end businesses, rowhouses, and local neighborhoods, the inklings of familiarity gone.

“Amethyst?

“Yeah?”

The blonde kept her eyes on the road, expression tight. “Where are we exactly?”

“Harlem.” The blonde’s lack of response made her speak up. “Trust me, Peri, you’ll like this.”

As they drove, Amethyst seemed to pull them away from the bustling parts of Harlem. Images of well-kept brownstones, active crossroads, and wall-painted artistry morphed into flaky buildings oozing with heat and concrete, covered in spray paint and abused rent signs. The stiff and deserted structures gave a flash of premonition. Forget the concept of ‘comforting’, this was the overall set-up for an assault and battery. They kept going, though.

“Alright, so go to your right.” She veered to the right. “Now...over there.” They parked at an alleyway that hid between two abandoned buildings, wheels rolling to a crawl.

The walls that gave them partial safety were plastered in enamel. Goliaths of grungy colors that lit up like circus freaks. Splattered letters, crossed-out digits, numbers in bright hues and muddy mixtures. It felt cold.

Amethyst peered at the alley's deepening corridors, hungry with damp pathways. "We should be protected from this point forward. Follow me."

She hissed. "Can you please tell me what we're doing?" She didn't want to delve deeper in, but her roommate looked energetic—sweaty as well.

"You wanted something interesting."

Peridot’s voice grew out of exasperation. “I said that, but did that imply I wanted to endanger myself?”

“...Yes?” At that point, the blonde wanted to leave. Doing something out of the norm is one thing, but getting involved in potential criminal activity was a whole nother level. She started walking out. “Don’t leave now! Come on, man, this is cool.”

“Seeing homicide is not in my profile!” Her face contorted, frown twitching. “What were you thi—”

“Look.” Amethyst’s voice lowered to a sharp tune. She looked her in the eyes—the other’s stare hardening. “If you don’t want to do this, then it’s fine by me, but with the amount of whining you’ve been up to, what else was I supposed to give you? A strip club? You’re way too prude for that.” Peridot tried to ignore that part. She continued walking. “All I’m saying is that you wanted something interesting, out of your comfort zone, and what I want to show you is a possible gang interaction.”

“Ames, I’m still not—”

“Comfortable? Yeah, I can see that now,” she said, looking tense, even in the company of shadows. “But I’m going to give you a chance to either get pumped or shimmy around it. Besides, it probably wouldn’t happen today, so it’s just a day of risk rather than comfort in some smelly house.” Amethyst Cuarzo was infuriating, but something about this moment gave Peridot a sense of urgency. The kind that flushed in her chest and rattled away at her arteries like a battering ram. “You want to have a go at this or do you want to do something else? I won’t mind.”

The tips of her shoes crossed into the light, the rest hesitating to come through.

Her heart was a fragile thing, it always was, but the idea of fragility running against the race of fate and circumstance pulled her in more than her conscious could suppress.

Amethyst sighed. “Fine. We’ll hit the ro—”

“Let’s do it.”

She looked over at her, like she witnessed a rabbit talk to her. “You’re serious?”

She walked back into the alley, finding it hard to look her roommate in the eye. A part of her urged her on, to give some type of response. “You gave me options.” The brick walls ached. “And as long as there’s a quick getaway, alongside distance, I wouldn’t feign to be weak-hearted about it.”

Amethyst wavered for a second. Her eyes were conflicted, moving around with a lack of direction, or a sense of a real answer. Finally, they settled on her, giving her a small grin. “Okay. Let’s get this set up.”

The stakeout began. Starting from six PM to God-knows-when, the two scuffled themselves to a safe space after slinking through the passages. It was a small exit that faced an empty lot a few feet away, covered in shrubbery and old lawn chairs that reeked of dry air. For Amethyst, it was her theater when she wanted a quick chug and violence from the East Side groups.

Peridot would grumble in-between about personal safety and idiocy, but she didn’t interfere for the most part (especially with her own choice weighing down on her supposed hypocrisy). One could easily get killed in a city full of vast identities, backgrounds, and hidden niches of the civilized, but for her roommate, it never seemed to bother her. She drank beer, got involved with clubs that ranged from wrestling to the escort kind, and even garnered up enough renown at her university for her feel-and-have-fun attitude.

When asked about it, she only had one legitimate response: “When you’re forced to sit in the sidelines for most of your life, you just want to take all of it in, y'know? So the best way I've found was to just get out there and do it. That's it.”

There was another reason, but it usually summed up to “It’s fun, so why not?”

The empty lot—divided by fence and weeds—didn’t harbor any activity. For the first hour, they spotted a small group playing some ball. Scattering and grouping with each pass and throw. Nothing out of the ordinary, just teenage boys laughing and shouting orders for their friends to take out the competition in one fell swoop.

Two hours passed. The group prodded each other over conversations the two weren’t even able to hear; they scampered and tussled with the same closeness Peridot could compare to her childhood. There was even one youth, skinny from top to bottom in their white sneaker shoes, using bountiful movements that told of what went on with their inevitable returns to highschool. It was hard to make out, but the mentions of ‘Mr. Lee’ and ‘homework’ gave it all away.

Then came the night hours, where the players left for the comfort of their mattresses or convenience stores. The only sign that life once prodded here was the smashed remains of a boy’s lunch on a battered ‘No Parking’ sign. Nothing else moved.

The night sang in hollow octaves. Lights hazed, windows waking up in the horizon’s concrete towers. Clouds roped above in invisible slumbers, outlines fading in the oceans of star-speckled ink. Peridot lounged in her chair, shadows lingering from her forehead to her nose. It’s been a while since they’ve been here; she would prop herself and check on her motorcycle now and then, but the unease riding on her shoulders were now slipping. She could blame it on a part of her that was relieved that the day was uneventful. Only small talks and basketball.

A hum rumbled in her throat, reclining more in her chair. “Ames, we should go.”

Her roommate, on the other hand, was stiff when nothing appeared from the somber atmosphere. Like a hound, she kept her eyes on the fence and the empty lot behind it; she was probably imagining hidden figures unveiling themselves from the niches of the streets. But nothing happened.

“Amethyst?”

Amethyst grimaced.

“Ame—”

Her soda gave a loud and sudden crunch, becoming an aluminum coin in her palms. She placed it in her pocket. Before Peridot could utter a word, she said, “Come on, let’s get everything packed up.”

The blonde frowned. The two started to gather up their belongings. The lawn chairs were folded and placed in a small niche nearby. Snacks Amethyst packed in a paper bag were discreetly dumped in a trash bin. It was a rigid air, the kind that made Peridot wonder if the Latina was tired, or even worse, disappointed. She observed the dragging gaits of her soles and concluded that she probably was.

“Hey.” Amethyst looked up when Peridot spoke, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. The countrywoman rubbed her neck. “Even if nothing happened, that doesn’t mean it wasn’t fun. Am I right?”

The expression she wore softened. “Yeah, I can’t argue with that.”

The quiet streets kept their eyes busy and feet moving. The ease of worry was the first proud step to another bout of peace between the two. Until a faint noise stopped them in their place. It was the sound of grinding asphalt, the purr of an engine. And it wasn’t fading away but growing.

"Get down." Peridot was brought to her knees, the shrubbery hiding their bodies in the dark as vehicles, concealed in the gloom, made their way towards the area. She kept her mouth shut when the distant lights flickered dead.

Shadows moved and overlapped, the nearest streetlights keeping the figures cloaked from a distance, but enough to keep the strangers busy without delay. They scurried with their work, a few hurrying over to the trunks of their automobiles. Peridot couldn’t discern note-worthy faces or voices. They were tiny in the night.

Amethyst slipped a few whispers into her ear. “Stay down. Don’t utter a word. If they spot us, get to the motorcycle. You got the engine going, right?”

“Yes,”

“Good.” For a person who sought out thrills, Amethyst was able to keep a serious tone and face as they watched.

Peridot wished another light could shine onto the scene, but she kept her lips tight while huddled in camouflage. Dark lines piled into two groups—she squinted, seeing the outlines of layers and hands clamped on cases and bags. Her heart wanted to spike.

This was the real deal.

Figures danced in her sights. Moving limbs. Hidden nods. Shapely exchanges that she couldn’t squint far for. The thought of her being here took its time to settle in the recesses of her brain. This was a legitimate barter; these were people who decided to partake in the going against law and order, and something about it twisted her curiosity like a wrung wet sponge.

But the shouting happened. It wasn’t lost on her or Amethyst—the voices became more audible, way too audible at this distance. With her eyes adjusting more to the dark, the outlines sharpened. People were shouting red herring. One—scruffy to the throat—let out a muffled “She did it!” as another yelled at him to back off. A case clattered and ricocheted from kicking feet, then rampant arms.

A shot rang into the darkness. Peridot’s knees shook as her ears recoiled from the sound, which threatened to pull her spine out of her mouth. Another shot clapped like lightning, and the yelling became more frequent, legible. Feet scattered. There were threats, chaotic jargon, and the clattering of shoes. Amethyst tugged at her flannel, fabric digging into her neck.

“We need to go.”

Even with her urgency, Peridot kept her eyes on the scene. Black splotches lay cradled on the ground like ragdolls. Figures hid and ran for the safety of the vehicles. Some just fled the scene entirely, allowing the streetlights to peer at their heavy attire and masking.

“Peri.” Amethyst hissed.

Two figures ran onto the sidewalks. One, adorning a black hoodie and beanie ran and struggled from a blue-capped man—stained with red matted hair. Light spilled over their clothing when the second grappled the first into a headlock, bringing a limp sack—who held it first, Peridot had no clue—to the ground.

The blue-capped man grappled and rammed the other into a wall, ripping the beanie off in the process. The streets illuminated tipped and azure-streaked hair, bodies haphazardly thrown about in violence. The harsh yelps against the pavement.

Amethyst pulled Peridot out of view, cursing under her breath as she ordered the blonde to drive them away. And she did. Lights blurred at her fingertips. Nothing was important except the road and the road alone, and the journey back home left her reeling when she parked in the alley outside of their apartment. The adrenaline ate at her veins, fingers twitching on the handles. She swore that she saw colors.

Her roommate loosened her grip on her waist, letting the weight distribute across the bike. “Holy shit, that was something.” Peridot closed her eyes, lifting herself off until she was reassured that the ground held her in safety. “How do ya’ feel, Peri?” Amethyst asked, laughing up a storm. The huge grin on her face, however, soon melted to one of concern when she noticed her face. She was white as a sheet. “Are you—?”

“I’m fine.” She forced the words out. It tasted bitter on her tongue. “Just...disoriented.” Each syllable slipped down her throat like putty.

Amethyst hesitated. For all of the things one could say in this instance, everything seemed to backpedal. “The first time is the hardest because you’re not used to it. Let’s get some rest for tonight, alright? Breakfast is on me.”

Peridot gave a quiet nod. “Okay.”

The night was a dreadful thing. When the two settled in, it was a statement that pressed on them, especially her—the first-timer, the newly-involved—with sweat and nightmares. If one could peer into the mind of an antsy young adult, you could find something prying under the surface. Fear. The type of fear that wouldn’t allow itself to go away; for Peridot, it felt permanent. Because the night was where she would stare and count out the bumps in the ceiling, mind wandering elsewhere when she couldn’t bring herself to another shut-eye. It meandered back to the dark lots and the gunshots, to the two forms fighting under the scrutinized eyes of the lamppost. And the dreaded hair.

The thing about all this was that the shootout didn’t scare her the most.

The azure-streaked hair did.


	7. Pacific

Peridot’s mind was wracked with something akin to grief. Or the smaller version of grief if one looked at the scope of what she’d been looking at. Life and societal tolerance were short; there shouldn’t be any reason to panic over something that could’ve been illusionary, but the fear lodged itself like a bullet, forcing her to look back on the day before.

Blue hair. How many people in the city have blue hair like that? One couldn’t excuse the coincidence or the agitation that rode on her shoulders with each new thought that flooded her mind. It couldn’t be Lapis Lazuli—the same face she’d gotten comfy with for the last couple of days. However, there was some truth to it, and she couldn’t lie to herself. Of all people, she was the one who had the likeliest chance to commit such a thing; not only that but the protest way back when added to the growing evidence.

Amethyst placed a coffee on Peridot’s study. It wafted of dark brew. “Could you chill? You look like you’re about to have a stroke.”

“I’m fine.” So fine that being stricken down by a stroke didn’t sound too bad at this very second. She was on her laptop, occupying herself, waiting for the Empire heat to take her as a victim.

The Latina jumped onto her bed. “Seriously though, you need to chill. You’ve been like this ever since yesterday.”

“And you wonder why I’m like this.” 

Amethyst winced. It was harsh, but what could Peridot do? Sugarcoat it and say she was crisp as a daisy? 

“Just give me a moment of speculation, will you? You said you knew that I would’ve been shaken up—and you expected it—and now you want me to chill.”

She rubbed her arm. “Jesus, okay fine.” The tone of her voice lowered. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”

Peridot just kept browsing. It wasn’t worth getting off to a bad start with her roommate, it wasn’t, but the fact of the matter is that things aren’t just black and white. She wanted time to herself, and Amethyst pestering her wasn’t helping in the slightest—especially with the current worries she harbored. "I'm just aggravated, Ames."

"Yeah, I could see that." She grumbled. "But what do you want to do with it? The internet isn’t going to help."

Peridot frowned. She continued typing. "Why do you say that?"

"You need to let it all out," Amethyst said. "When I saw my first shootout I had to go somewhere to get the adrenaline off." She got off the bed. "So, go somewhere. Do something. Hell, go on a date, you need it."

The blonde reddened. She buried herself into her laptop. "Dates are unneeded."

"So?"

"They just lead to messy and emotional vacillations."

"I don’t know what that means, but it won't happen if you decide to talk and not be silent about it." For Peridot, that was the most terrifying thing one could endure. "Then maybe meet up with a friend? I know you went with the blue chick one time, so why not her?"

The blonde tensed up. “Lazuli?”

“Yeah, the dude you rode off into the sunset with.” Amethyst tried to lean in, wanting her roommate to notice her in her vision. “Do a hangout, what’s the worst that could happen?

A lot of things, but Peridot was too tired to even utter a protest when the Latina continued. “Just...try it, okay? I know you like to go on joy rides and all that jazz, but befriendin’ people in the city ain’t that bad.” The stuffy atmosphere jabbed at them, yet there was a silent acknowledgment: being outside was better than staying in a poorly conditioned apartment.

Peridot stood up and closed her laptop, grabbing her phone from the side. “Unbelievable.”

“Finally! Don’t chicken out!” Her roommate’s chuckles followed her out as she fumbled through the contact list. Each tap and slide were like cinders, bringing her mind back to the forefront of an internal battle when Lapis’s name burned into her view. It was a simple frame, but something about it made her hesitate in her place. What was pushing her forward with this?

The creaking of floorboards brought Amethyst to her attention; she had the same competitive smirk, the same curious glance, like she was about to bring something else into the picture to make the day a lot more unpleasant. “What are ya’ waitin’ for?”

“It...can't be that simple.”

“It _is_ simple. It’s called ‘initiative’.” 

A sharp exhale.

Then the press of the screen.

As the dial-up kept them busy, Peridot started to feel the pressure. Nerve-wracking wasn’t the right word for what she felt; she was practically sweating beads as each second of the phone left her regretting more of her life and the decisions that have lead to this moment. The dull weight on her pushed down. Professional phone calls? Easy and to the point. Familial matters? Begrudging at best. Ring up an acquaintance (or friend)? She might as well bring a shotgun to the event, because she'd never endure the public anxiety of being in this current state out in the open...with an attractive and questionable lady, no less!

“Who’s this?” The voice brought her back. It was sharp, threatening.

She swallowed the last of her nerves. “Is this Lapis Lazuli?”

“Who is—Oh, is this Peridot?” Her voice seemed to melt, returning to the Lapis that Peridot was known to hear: dry and amused.

“Affirmative.”

“Peri, you sound like you’re at a military camp, are you okay?” 

“I’m okay, perfectly okay.” Selling it was not her strongest point. The thing that irritated her was the two thumbs up Amethyst gave her in the corner of her view; the gall to exchange a rude hand signal back to her was lost when she spoke again. “Just wanted to know about your day at this current time.”

“Well, I’m talking to you.” Silence. “While sitting in a chair.” A pause. “In my room. I got nothing, really.”

“Perfect!” Lapis let out an unintelligible noise. “Because I’ve wanted to talk about a matter.”

“Okay?”

“My day is very unoccupied relating to my schedule,” she said, fiddling with the folds in her flannel. “So I was wondering if you’re available for an outing."

The sigh from the other end made the blonde relax. “And what do you have in mind, Olivine?”

Now that the fear has subsided, Peridot wondered the same thing. She didn’t plan far ahead with this, blaming it on her stupidity and worries climbing on top of each other. What was she expecting with Lapis? she asked herself. There was the probability of her becoming a total stranger, using this moment to hurt her and the people she’s known, but her brain filed it into irrationality. It couldn’t be true. “There’s a movie theater nearby. Empire Cinematics.” 

The other line gave an agreed-upon hum. The blonde was starting to sweat again. Her roommate, noticing the pressure building inside her, started to search her phone in a hurry. “We could peruse a few of the available listings!”

“Like what?”

Amethyst showed her a list. “Something bold!” Her eyes browsed the screen. “Something dynamic!” She stopped at one. “Dogcopter 4? I’ve heard it was in 4D and who wouldn’t want to see the epic conclusion of that!” 

She nearly jumped when Lapis burst out into laughter from the other end. “What’s wrong? What’s so comical about this?”

“Sorry, I—” She gave a small snort. Peridot didn’t know what to feel about this—nothing about this was funny. “I didn’t expect you to say Dogcopter.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice rose to a whine. Lapis’s giggles became audible again, Peridot’s chest giving an unpleasant lurch. “Dogcopter isn't a negative renown film series, it's decent with its portrayal of characterization and visual storytelling, so I concluded that it would be an appealing watch.” The laughter returned. Peridot bit her lip at each second of it, not helping the crack in her voice. “Y’ain’t a fan of Dogcopter?”

Lapis tried to breathe through her wheezes. “No, no!” Another gasp for air. “Holy shit, no—I’m a fan of Dogcopter, don’t worry.”

“Then why were you sniggering?”

“I never had someone ask me to go to the movies for Dogcopter, you’re fine." Even though she couldn’t see her, Peridot knew she was smiling behind the screen. “I’ll meet you at your apartment, okay? It won’t take long.”

“Wait, right now? But I need to prepare and everything!” Peridot tried to keep her voice steady—fighting off the amount of panic that was settling in.

“Half an hour then.”

“That’s the minimum?”

“Unless you want that to be the minimum?”

“Then I’ll see ya’ in an hour.”

She ended the call with a sharp tap of her finger. Her eyes gave the phone a once-over, attempting to find meaning in its ill-lit features. But when she gazed into the opaque, no reassurance was found at the sight of her disquieted reflection.

Amethyst pounced on her with a celebratory wheeze, looking like she's about to combust from holding in her laughter. “Holy cow, you did it! You mad animal ya’ got a date!”

“CAN YOU SHUT IT WITH THE DATE THING!”

* * *

The outing—or in Amethyst’s case the “outin’”—needed a few things to make it work.

First off, a set of clothes that accommodated the weather.

Second, money to remove any expenses and IOUs. They didn’t want regrets now, did they?

And thirdly, a clean and crisp mind; the kind that could stay under pressure and be decisive over life’s mediocrity.

Peridot could garner these necessities, but it was hard when you allowed her to think clearly.

The bedroom looked more like an organized battleground. Armaments of different flannels, jeans, jackets, and colored undershirts placed in rows of different levels of priority, threatening to topple if one made a misstep—which Amethyst was trying to avoid when she helped her out with finding the right uniform. However, she wasn’t pleased with having to place her feet in gaps that were wide as a stick’s girth span.

“This is ridiculous.” She mumbled. “Who the hell packs this much clothing?”

Peridot looked up, arms rummaging around in her drawers. “I do.”

Amethyst rubbed her nose. She was starting to regret supporting this in the first place. “Can you just get a random flannel? Any flannel? It doesn’t have to be spunky or fashionable, just something nice and simple or not too nerdy.”

The blonde gave her a bird-eyed stare. She lifted two green flannels—one occupying each hand. “Chartreuse or lime?”

“Dude…”

“Amethyst, I’m serious.” She grimaced. The flannels she held were folded and placed back into their wooden cubbies. “I need the perfect flannel; one that blends in with the night so it doesn’t become too noticeable or grotesque.”

The Latina continued to dip into the mattress, melting into it as if the blankets were quicksand. “Chart ruse.”

“Chartreuse.” 

Amethyst paid no heed to her comment. 

“Are you sure?” Peridot asked.

“Yes. I’m sure.”

The countrywoman looked into her drawers again. “I’m not believing it.” 

“You wanted my advice,” Amethyst said. “And I ain’t a fashion expert so this is the only advice you’ll get from me: choose any of them, it won’t make a difference. Period.”

Peridot scrunched her nose. She grabbed one of the folded pieces of clothing from the container, one dark in hue, and watched it unfold itself ‘til it was at its full length. “I’ll use fern. It’s less-worn than chartreuse, anyway.” 

Making her way towards the bathroom, Amethyst let out a deep sigh. “Unbelievable.” 

With her lagging back, she was assigned as the look-out, to keep alert of any knocking upon their door. Lapis (from what Peridot had told her) is just a few steps from their residence and both of them wanted to be prepared for her arrival—Peridot more so out of panic and Amethyst wanting to encourage her friend to get out more. It shouldn’t be a disaster, as long as they find some grounds to talk and don’t act like idiots in public.

On that thought, some doubts started to plague her.

The afternoon was still plentiful. Five hours before sundown, to be frank, not bad for a quick mingle with a potential partner, or friend, or whatever the two had going on. She wondered how those two even met formerly. Even if she was amused by the idea of her roommate getting hitched by a random stranger and driving off into the night, sakura blossoms and wedding bells pouring the streets in their wake, there was a sense of uneasiness from what it would entail.

She met plenty of people throughout her life who revealed themselves to be two-faced as she'd gotten to know them better, and it left decent warnings later on that no one shouldn’t be fully trusted. IOUs like to pile up. Appearances left date nights bitter. Contacts could abandon you if they saw you as nothing but utter garbage. Her fingers dug into her arm. And then released.

Peridot wasn’t that type of friend to be a victim or an asshole in those circumstances. Too much of a nerd to ever fall into that kind of rock bottom.

But she didn’t know for sure…

A knock at the door. Abrupt. Anticipated. She stood up from the couch. Peridot was still in the bathroom, presumably hiding inside like a turtle in a carapace, so there was no utterance from the restroom when Amethyst unlocked the door.

The same woman, the one that parted with Peridot a few weeks back, stared back at her. “Oh hey, can I come in?”

“Yeah, feel free.” She widened the gap, motioning her in with a quick hand twirl towards her chest. The other accepted the notion. “Peri is being a butt about clothes so we need to wait for her.” 

Lapis wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. Nothing special. Nothing that stood out to her gaze; it saddened her a bit. One would think she’d be talking to a biker badass, but the Terraria logo on her attire was nothing to yell about. “Make yourself at home, it’s not common for Peri to bring a friend, so we tried to clean our lair up the best we could.”

There was a small ‘thank you’ exchanged and the wrestler closed the door. The apartment wasn’t so bad; previous beer spills and rogue crumbs were swept up by her and Peridot, the floor spotless and lickable. The only thing that looked unorderly was the countrywoman’s couch, bearing numerous pamphlets that had questions about careers, engineering, and how to handle one’s tuition—which the blue-haired woman picked up and placed on the coffee table.

Amethyst leaned over the sofa, giving her a look-over. She had the right to observe, see if the woman herself was a catch. “Soooo, you’re the mystery girl that rode my friend.” 

Lapis’s cheeks flushed pink. “Excuse me?”

“I mean, ya rode her motorcycle out of the protest chaos, not the other thing unless ya’ _did_ —”

“I’m not like that.”

At least they got that out of the way. “I’m just saying, nothing harsh about it.” Amethyst donned a cheeky smile. Riling people up was always her passion. “But legit, it really is nice to meet you. Peridot likes to talk about ya’.”

Lapis gave her a wary eye. “She does?”

“Yep. Stuff about you screaming at the top of your lungs and making her think you were about to kill her.”

Lapis tightened her posture. Amethyst added on to it. “She also talked about you being a badass as well if you’re thinking about all the details.”

“I’m not.” Regardless, she looked happy and allowed herself to press into the cushions. “But it’s nice knowing that she thinks well of me.” That lady had no idea how well that Southern munchkin thought of her, other than the anxiety bits. “You look familiar though. Don’t you work at that café, the Temple Café?” 

For the two years she’s been here, she never saw Lapis’s face before at her waitressing hours. Either she took the morning hours for coffee, or she was a potential stalker; if the latter was the case, she was going to have to fight her like a hobo wielding a broken bottle—and she wasn’t afraid to use the jagged parts! “Yeah, I am.” She raised an eyebrow at her. “You check up on the place?”

“I help at the protests with Miss Bianchi.”

“You mean Pearl?”

“Yeah, Pearl.” She rubbed her arm. Her laugh was uneven, no joy put into it. “She gets pretty passionate about economic reform so I’m surprised you’ve never heard about this.” The wrestler did hear about it, it’s just that she never paid any attention to Pearl’s tirades eighty percent of the time nor gave heed to the weird tools in the back of the restaurant. She thought it was for musical nights or some complicated new scheme the owner created to gain new customers (like a huge robot that “kidnapped” people using throbbing neon lights).

“I knew that but damn, now that’s part of the picture, everything is starting to make sense,” Amethyst said. “It’s a small world after all.” Amid their discussion, the bathroom door clicked open. Peridot ushered herself out, a darker-toned flannel adorning her form. “Hey there, P. Took you long enough.”

Lapis stood up from the couch, giving the girl a grin. “You ready to go?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, of course.” The blonde walked towards them. She always had this straight-laced walk to her, the type of gait that told Amethyst loud and clear that every part of her was nervous and threatening to implode. She was surprised that she wasn’t stuttering or bumbling about. “I just need my phone and a few other necessities and we’ll be on our way.”

When she pocketed her phone and looked around for her motorcycle ignition, Amethyst saw this as the proper time to give some advice. She leaned a bit towards Lapis, voice minute. “Watch this.” Before the other could react, she raised it to room-level. “Hey, Peri, what flannel did you get?”

Peridot, fishing out her keys from a small box, looked at her. “Fern, why?”

“Nothing, I thought you were gonna go with chattyruse.”

“It’s chartreuse. When I said I would wear something less-worn I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, fine.” Amethyst looked back over at Lapis with a chuckle. “Good luck, she’s a nerd, so try to get her to talk about the things she likes; it shouldn’t be too hard if you know what I mean.”

Lapis couldn’t help but chuckle at Peridot’s expense, who huffed at the wrestler’s words. “Thanks for the tip.”

“Lapis.” She was already at the door. “You coming?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

Amethyst was already snickering. “Don’t have too much fun, I don’t want you two returning back in handcuffs.” The Southerner gave a withering glare before escorting herself out with her friend, who’s laugh being the last thing to be heard before the door closed.

The apartment was calm again. 

She released the sigh that built up in her chest. Her back pressed into the couch, minutes dozing by. 

She was proud of that rascal hick. For all of the years she’s partnered up with friends in the city, there was something about Peridot that felt genuine, even if it was with a pinch of salt. You could tease her and she wouldn’t react like an eggshell, rather giving off a bull attitude that made the days feel a bit more lively than lazy.

Her eyes reflected on the television screen. It was despondent. Murked in tenebrous. Peridot was trusted, she told herself. She’ll be okay.

* * *

Peridot, a few blocks down, felt the night creep into the nooks of her flannel, her arms bristling from the cold and her nose numbing red. Is there regret over not bringing a jacket? Of course, but she tried to brush it off with the company she had with her.

Folded clouds were above the skyline. The city transitioning back into a neon fluorescent paradise, dripping with the color of red wine. Peridot kept a distance from her companion as she tinkered with her phone’s GPS, eyeing the two dots and the line leading them to their destination. It would take some time to get to the theater at this rate, which wasn’t ideal for her. Ever since they got out of the apartment, she’s been glancing at her companion with uncertainty, broadening her chest in an attempt to steel herself. 

Lapis looked of the ordinary, but the attitude felt the same. The typical jeans. Identical leather. The same closed-off air. Even the azure-streaked hair that plagued her yesterday night looked the same as hers. Or maybe it wasn’t? Maybe she was doubting her perception? Her own memory? The only thing that kept Peridot sane at that instance was the t-shirt Lapis wore. Faded but enough for her to make out the design.

“Why are you wearing a Terraria shirt?”

Lapis was speechless before giving her a little shrug. She was more casual than her, not phased by the chilly breeze. “Thrift store.”

“You've no idea what Terraria is.”

“Am I supposed to? It’s just a shirt.” She shrugged once again.

“Man, we need to get you cultured.” Peridot chuckled. “You know none of this.”

“Peri, I know of a few.” They crossed a street. “Freddy Mercury, The Beatles…”

“I’ll give you some points for those, but you still don’t know much.”

She scoffed. “Fine, then ‘wise old hermit’, teach me your ways.”

Peridot would’ve accepted whole-heartedly if it weren’t for the stench that invaded her nostrils, making her heave and cough into her sleeve.

“You okay?”

“No, the smell is terrible.” She whispered, trying to scrunch her nose until the burned skunk smell wafted away—or until the two of them finally escaped the presence of the alley that harbored the guilty smokers. “Oh my stars, that was horrible.”

Lapis gave her a sly smile. “Can’t handle a bit of weed, cowgirl?”

“If a few of my brain cells leaked, I would.” She moaned. “I can’t believe Pierre’s right.” Her last words were in a whisper, but the other heard it loud and clear. 

“Who’s right?”

Peridot’s posture tightened. “That the city smells like marijuana if you focus hard enough.”

“No, not that. Did you just say that Pining Heart’s Pierre was correct?” 

The blonde’s cheeks flushed. She shook her head. “No, I’m talking about a different Pierre—my brother.”

Lapis was taken aback by that. “You have a brother named after one of your favorite—”

“Yeah, yeah, it sounds weird but you could blame my ma for it.” She let out a disgruntled noise at the thought. It felt odd to her, to be honest. Why would her brothers be embarrassing to her at a time like this, especially with how her companion didn’t seem to mind it all? She then remembered that her brothers—mostly three of them—were embarrassing, and her body took great pleasure in showing it. “To be fair, if Camp Pining Hearts had a more mature rating Pierre would definitely say that.”

Her companion chuckled. “He would, wouldn’t he?” The expression on her faltered. “I am curious about your brother though. You’ve never talked about him.”

“Yeah, never gave much detail.” Peridot furrowed her eyebrows. “He’s one of my younger brothers—the first of the twin parcel, if you will—and compared to CPH Pierre he shares more similarities to a C4 than that tank of a human.” She swore that her brother made it his job to tease and torture the Devil out of her. Just for the fun of it—the worst type of excuse.

“What’s the name of the other twin?”

“Percy.”

“Percy and Pierre, huh?” Lapis smiled. Something about it loosened the awkwardness of it all, like slivers of sunshine cracking through heavy rain. “I didn’t know your mom was into that show, that’s way too big of a coincidence.”

“She was adamant,” Peridot said. “Ready to fight my dad over their own conceived labels if he didn’t agree to them, same for one of my sisters too.”

“Paulette?”

Peridot confirmed it. “Paulette.”

“Who else?”

“Patrick and Pamella.”

“Damn...your family’s full of nerds.”

She almost choked. “What the heck is that suppose to mean!”

“It means that your family is adorable.” Lapis smirked at her, not helping the small laugh that escaped from her lips. “Especially your mom; makes me wonder how much of a geek your father is too.”

The blonde stopped herself, giving a fogged glance at one of the streets. “He...he was more of a mechanic ‘geek’ than what you’ve described.”

Peridot was startled to find Lapis staring at her intently, like she was determined on finding something in the contours of her face that the Southerner herself would be blind to notice. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The woman looked away. “Sorry, I was just looking for something.”

“Looking for what?” Lapis didn’t respond, leaving them to walk in rigid silence. It was the same type of silence she feared, where one dug into it until they hit rock bottom. “Hey, Lazuli.” Her friend looked at her. “How much do you know about Dogcopter?”

Her mouth went into a small ‘oh’, eyes having a hard time focusing on their path. “Errr, it’s a dog with helicopter blades on his back...and he flies around and solves crimes?”

Lazuli didn’t know much about the series then. It was perfect. "That's the simple overview, correct, but it's more complex than that.” Peridot Olivine couldn’t emote well to save her life, but she has one strength—could she even call it that?—that counteracts it all: hyperfixation. “This franchise has a heavy focus on character-driven narrative and massive continuity between each literature piece, but I can say it's pretty hard to convert thousands of texts into a visual medium without lacking in those departments of their portrayals." 

For her, she wanted to keep the flame between them alight until they arrived at the theater, but she didn’t expect a huge reaction from her companion until she took notice. The hairs riding the back of her neck stood on end; Lapis Lazuli was beaming at her. It wasn’t one that looked pulled or tired, but it fostered such a gaiety that she, herself, couldn’t even describe. She decided to keep going. "Dogcopter One and Two did an amazing job for delivering the messages of their counterparts, but after the old director got replaced, I am wary of how they'll execute the rest of the novels, especially the personal arcs."

Lapis, fists bunched in her pockets, held an intent gaze. "Yes. The, uh, limitations of a... new director could, uh, complicate the process of a new arc?" She responded to her in uncertainty—which Peridot realized was an attempt to border both of their worlds.

Her voice cracked. "Exactly!" She giggled in her excitement. “That's what I said to Amethyst but she said, and I quote, 'It's not that deep, it's just a kid's movie', but she doesn't understand how a director's choices could make the difference between the creation of a cloddy, one-dimensional piece of garbage versus a masterfully-written plot that can tug the hearts of the general public."

And that was how the evening continued. Peridot felt like a latch around her throat was unlocked by the simple click of a key, and she was spurting out review and interpretation laced with her common euphoria. It was enthralling. To allow herself to bring up things that she always snuffed her nose in was more liberating than coming to Empire in the first place. She talked of how Dogcopter’s parental themes fit John Bowlby’s attachment theory and her theories on who his parents were (“I would believe it’s a very neglectful set of parents that left him with his previous state of self-awareness, hence his development to become a better person, err, dog, and get out of the shadow of his abuse.”) and the rest of her abundant mind. The best part about it was that Lapis didn’t look sick of it. There were times where she would look droopy-eyed and allow her gaze to wander at points, but she kept still enough for Peridot to finish off her final theory when they got to the movie theater, the remnants of the sleeping city mood making way for the nightly scene.

The words _Empire Cinematics_ caught their eye. Captured in a bright hold as it flashed above them, the front a chute decorated with movie posters of all kinds.

Dogcopter 4 stood out to them for the most part; the rest of the movie listings just weren’t that exciting to peruse. Even with their vibrant collages of fonts, explosions, and dramatic foreground cuts, most of them were remakes or hit-or-miss busters that Peridot didn’t have much interest in, so getting involved with watching a bladed-canine wasn’t that bad of a deal for them.

“The next viewing won’t be in twenty minutes,” Peridot noted, looking up at the board’s details. She took out her wallet, looking through as Lapis gave a wary eye at the prices. As the gentlewoman of the pair, she decided it was her time to shine in this instance. “I’ll pay, Lazuli.”

She responded with the recessive tap at her own pockets. “Wait, you don’t—.” Peridot fished out her credit card, moving forward towards the booth—a man waiting for them behind it in his sullied mood, bags hanging on his face. 

After giving a glance at the figure and then towards her vacant pockets, Lapis’s protests melted into a defeated shrug. “Okay.”

The exchange was quick. A flash of hands and they were practically done, the ticket seller waving them towards the inside doors, promising inside concessions. The blonde sported a triumphant grin, seeming to shout ‘you see that? I’m the best at this, Lazuli!’. “I’ll then get you some popcorn and soda—the ideal pair of confection. Or we could get some nachos or smoothies.”

“Peri, it’s okay, I’m fine.”

“Probably a huge bucket of popcorn, that could last the entire sitting even if we ate a ton at the beginning from excitement.”

“You don’t have to.” Lapis reiterated, tone sharpening. “You don’t have to spend all your money on me, especially if you don’t want to,”

Peridot’s expression waned. “I want to, though.” She never expected her to get annoyed over her chivalrous efforts. Don’t people like selfless acts of giving? The ability to loosen from financial burden? "I can buy you some popcorn, I'm just not into these types of confectioneries. I do this because I’m a good person—by definition."

Her companion bit her lip; an ineligible feeling pooling at her features. After a few seconds, she sighed. “Okay, I guess popcorn would be nice.”

And with that, the two walked into the cinema, the shorter of the duo making a running start.

* * *

Peridot kicked a can that lay discarded on the sidewalk, watching it ricochet and roll into an alleyway. Fists stuffed into her pockets, she kept herself hunched and narrow, grumbling irritations under her breath.

She was aggravated. Not by personal means, no, but of something that was utterly idiotic that it took a lot out of her to prevent herself from kicking down the manager’s office back at the cinema and suing them to high heaven. Here’s the problem: in Empire City (or for more stricter areas in general), one is not allowed to threaten or argue with an aggressor no matter how justified it is.

Threatening a phone-dependent teenager in a room full of people wasn’t allowed nor is challenging them to a verbal roasting match over their lack of respect, hence Peridot’s moping session as she and Lapis—who was trailing behind her—made their way back from the cineplex. A disaster outing; the worst kind.

Lapis didn’t seem to mind. Looking unnerved at her friend’s sulking, she walked without worry. “You were still pretty cool back there, Peri.”

She grumbled.

“Movie etiquette is a thing so I was surprised the staff didn’t take action.” She tried to increase her pace, knowing that the bummed girl wasn’t going anywhere at this point. “But you let him have it! The dude looked terrified!” Even with her back towards her, Peridot couldn’t help the blush on her cheeks.

“Someone had to, or else the lack of security will just lead to anarchy and you know what happens when anarchy is established?” Peridot said.

“Hell falls from the sky?”

“No.” She snickered. “It’s a man-against-man game and the government can’t fight against the population if they’re weak.”

Lapis doubled-over in laughter. “I thought you were talking about the theater, not the entire country!”

“It’s an analogy!”

“A terrible one!”

“It’s not bad!” Peridot’s voice cracked. “I proved my point with using it, so your opinion is wrong!” She punched her shoulder, but with the lightheartedness of it, it felt more like a tap than a threat.

The two were still up in giggles as they made their way back home. The sun was gone so the brownstones and stores surrounding them lit up like reveries. Peridot would’ve been lying if she said the nightlife wasn’t beautiful; the neon mixed with the shadows and lampposts morphed her somewhere far away, where the jazz and electronic could fill her head by just the pure nostalgia for a place she’s never attached herself to—a time that seemed so distant but yet so close.

“Hey.” The blonde was pulled out of her trance by Lapis, who seemed to skitter in stride, looking away if she tried to make contact with her. “Thanks for this. For today and all. I had a great time.”

Funny. She thought Lapis was lying for a second until she noticed how soft her expression formed under the Empire lights. It looked too raw to be a joke. “You’re welcome.” Shuddering from the cold, she gave a nervous laugh as she rubbed her bicep for heat. “I...had a great time too.”

Lapis hummed. She looked to be in her own world, for her blue-haired head tilted up towards the jungle above, the breathing and quiet metropolis, and released a lofty exhale. There was content in her smile, the kind that made her catch her breath from how the surroundings melted, leaving her acquaintance in a portrait. A picture-perfect solitude.

“There’s one thing I don’t like about this city,” Peridot said. It was abrupt and crisp, leaving both of them at a steady pace, gazing into Empire’s yonder. 

“Yeah?” Languid breathes in-between.

“This night is too short. For a so-called outing we didn’t produce much excitement or interaction.“ There was a pause. For Peridot, she was giddy. What was she giddy of? The thoughts in her mind, the newly-developing plans that adapted to each step they took. The suggestion was there—right in her throat—she just had to say it. “I’d suggest we override our main path and go a more scenic route.”

Lapis cracked a smile. “Now you’re speaking my language. But where do we go?”

Does it matter where they go? “I have one location in particular.”

“Lead the way.”

The running was immediate. Peridot bounded down the lane, leaving Lapis to shout over the beats of their feet as the two started their journey; she had a plan and that plan lead her to follow the sidewalks in stride, heart pounding in her ears. Environment blurring to flashes of neon and brood.

She recalled one route Amethyst had shown before—last week by recollection—where the climb was worth it for nothing more but the views it achieved. Sights that fed her with the memories of home. 

A corner. A crossing. A swerve down a way. It took turns, shortcuts, and muscle memory for her to find the unique niche in the path. One that diverted to the left and introduced an ascending flight of stone steps; it dug into the Earth with its curved shape, pulling her into its climb. The choked breathes behind her made her jump. “Peri, wait!”

The blonde looked behind her, breathless, and saw Lapis on her haunches, gasping out at the base of the stairs. “Just a little higher, Laz!” She encouraged, pulling herself up a few more flights.

“Where are we going?” Still breathless.

“To the Surveyor Gardens.” She was lead up to a stone platform. The platform itself wasn’t impressive—heck, even the doors that lead to the inside gardens connecting it were closed—but what it allowed them to access is what mattered. Walking over to the glass railings, she assessed the area below her: canopies, bountiful in flora that lined up and spiraled into dances; hedges rising into walls, tipping themselves into tulip beds and handsome water pools that flowed in-between like cracks; hidden lamps angels in the dark.

The skyline was what bordered it. One could hear the distant traffic like a silent symphony, advertisements buzzing in blurred specs, only sharpening if one squinted their periphery. There were rare times where one could observe the city without light pollution fogging up one's perception. That was one of those moments. The pollution was still potent, but she could spot the stars above, the light reaching out from the farthest corners of the galaxy, holding her gaze in spectacle.

Lapis accompanied her on the railings. Her form melted into a relaxed composure, letting out a hum of appraisal. "I've...honestly never seen this before."

"The Garden is unappreciated tourism-wise, especially the surveyor," Peridot leaned more. The lights from the city glowed in sleepy hues. "Many flock to Broadway, the Empire State Building, and the fancy hotels, but the quiet places are always given some scrap. It doesn’t mean that they’re not visited, but it’s a shame to see them only being recommended by experienced residents.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I’m not complaining though. I’d rather stick to this than staying in traffic with clods who can’t use their darn turn signals.”

Her companion nodded slowly. “I kinda see that. The world just stops for a second.” She leaned on the railing as well, the other noting the curiosity on her features. “You don’t have to think about your chores or tasks you have on your plate; you just stay here and allow yourself to be pulled away.”

“Have you ever been to the countryside, Lazuli?” She leered at her with an arched eyebrow. “Sounds like you haven’t left this city since you were a zygote.”

She rolled her eyes. “No. Born and raised here, never had enough time to—” She faltered, stare dimming down. “What’s it like?”

“Hm?”

“To live out in the open, away from it all.” 

“Well…” Peridot’s eyes lulled to a half-lidded gaze. It was a simple question, but it left her melancholic; even with her recollections of her home state, some part of her threatened to distance itself, like the mention of her past would leave that one aspect of her to go cold entirely. “There are fields, a lot of them. It’d take miles for one to find the nearest town or city, and our neighbors would have to drive or bike towards us.” She glanced up to make sure her companion was listening. She was. “Your chores are heightened by every square mile you have of animal care, and since we’re open range the feedings take most of our time.”

“Anything else?”

She rubbed her chin. “There’s the decreased probability of knowing whether a zombie apocalypse has occurred.”

Lapis laughed. “Definitely something I think about a lot.” A sigh left her lips. “But it seems so slow compared to the city, like nothing ever happens. I can’t imagine myself in that situation, where I’m bored out of my mind.”

“It’s not slow if you aren’t alone,” Peridot said. “The way I see it, it becomes boring if you allow it to be. My family always has something to do: harvesting crops, feeding animals, teaching the rest to cook, doing homework. You’d know what my mom would say if we’ve ever gotten bored?” The other shook their head. With that, Peridot crooned out a Southern accent. “‘Get off your lazy behind and plant this here squash with me!’”

Lapis laughed harder, almost doubling over the railing. “Do all of them sound like that?”

“If you mean cranky and hyper, then yes.” She chuckled. There was something serene about this moment, like the anxiety to understand Lapis was losing its sheen with the moments that ticked by. Like they were thrown into the wind.

“I guess it just depends on where you’re from; I’m with Empire and you’re with Derby.” She settled down, her fingers occupying themselves with the ruffles of her hair. “If I ever, and I mean ever, had the chance to see what’s outside the city, I’ll take it just to see if I could get out.” Peridot bristled. “You get what I mean?”

She did in a way.

Lapis took out her phone. “It’s late, we should head back before we get mugged.”

“That won’t be necessary.” The blonde released her hold on the railing, bit inebriated from the atmosphere. “People have attempted to swindle the very pockets off of me and none of them survived.” She strode over to the stairs. “We should be fine, as long as we don’t go to any isolated areas where we’re susceptible to harassment.”

Lapis chuckled. “You’re the boss.”

“Before we go,” Peridot fiddled with a strand of her hair, laugh stiff in her throat, “since you’ve been an amazing companion for this night, I would like it if we took a picture.” She twiddled her hair more. “Just to remember the night.”

She rolled her eyes, but the smile on her was as vibrant as the stars. “Alright, just make sure to get the garden in the picture too!”

* * *

The road was lighter. Peridot could practically feel the buzzing of contentment between them as they walked beside each other. Their original plans didn’t end in a smooth landing, but she concluded that this—this very moment—was much sweeter than anticipated. It reminded her of friends back home, before they parted ways later on.

However, something was still tugging at her. A weight that kept her from smiling throughout the talks she and Lapis had while following the sidewalks back to their apartment. Even after everything they talked about, she never really had much of a glimpse into Lapis’s personal thoughts and life; no talks of her parents, the work she’s supposedly affiliated with, or any small details that an acquaintance—or was she a friend?—would get informed on. No reference. Just vague mentions. It wore her down like weights cuffed to her wrists.

She checked the time herself. 10:30 p.m. “Thank the stars this isn’t high school.” Lapis raised an eyebrow. “My classes happen later, so I’m not going to suffer five hours of sleep anymore.”

She snorted. “I could never endure that type of stuff. My sleep schedule is bad as is.”

Peridot perked up, the weight in her mind returning full-force. “Insomnia?”

“Nah.” Lapis shook her head.

“Stress?”

She rubbed her neck. “You could say that.”

“Then why is that, Lazuli?” 

She bit her lip. “I do some jobs, freelance, oddball work.” 

Peridot hitched her breath. She halted. A bright lamppost flickered in and out of existence nearby. Her companion’s steps faded a few feet ahead of her, staring at her with an expression the blonde couldn’t recognize. “Lazuli, how frequent are they? Do they go into the night?”

She shuffled her feet. “That doesn’t matter.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“Why’d you want to know?”

“Is it part-time or full time?”

“It depends on the situation.” Lapis’s gaze hardened, fixating on a concrete fissure between them, weeds growing in weak strands. “Goes into dawn. Goes up to twilight. I do people’s work, I do retail, I get ordered around like any other adult on this goddamn planet.” She was sharp, tightening her hands into loose fists—leaving Peridot to retract. “Are you happy with that?”

She tightened her gaze. Deep breaths later, she replied, “Yes.”

Lapis loosened her grip. The fire in her eyes was doused immediately, leaving her aimless, trying to find someplace to focus other than Peridot herself. She gave an apology, one that fell apart in pathetic silence, and the two, in their distraught, picked up their bearings and continued home.

Awkwardness. Could one bury such a thing as awkwardness? If Peridot was a professional at such a thing, they wouldn’t have been dragging their soles back home in the dark. It was pitiful, that she could be so many things except the one that was “essential” to living. It became her detriment. An Achilles’ heel. 

The atmosphere was murky, her twiddling fingers occupied with distraction, trying to keep a straight face—avoiding her friend’s eyes.

She tried once. “The night looks rather dashing, doesn’t it?” Nothing but a shrug.

The second time. “I’ve got to show you a few more CPH episodes; I forgot that one of my favorite arcs is coming up!” The dry reply ended that with a snap.

The third time was where she mustered an ooze of courage to go on.

“I have to partake in a job as well, Laz.”

The turn of Lapis’s head was what struck her. She continued. “A small profession as a mechanic. I’ll be working in a few more days.”

“That’s nice. I hope you get it.” Even with the expectation for niceties, Lapis’s voice was void of sentiment, a monotone grasp.

They were silent for the duration.

It’s funny how fragile communication is, she brooded. For all her intentions, she never did want to make a bad impression, especially to Lapis Lazuli, the elephant enigma in her social life. 

The signs of home were making themselves pass by with frequency, making her lament and appreciate the fact that this entire thing will be over in just a few minutes. She could go back home and watch some sitcoms, and then scrub her brain free of guilt in the morning with a ball of steel wool. Perfect and clean. It won’t be a problem and she won’t have to care…

“Peridot.” Lapis was staring at her, her expression unreadable. “This’ll be the second time you’re hearing this, but thank you.” Her companion bit her lower lip. “I’ve never seen the city in such a peaceful way before, so...”

Even under the mode of observation, Peridot couldn’t help the appreciative burn in her chest. It felt nice to know that the night didn’t askew off the main path. “No problem.”

Stepping into the lobby, Lapis beckoned her to the elevator with mild flattery, the other loosening their anxieties to something more of one simple thought: it was going to be okay. Pulling themselves up to their respective floor, they made their way to the first room—Peridot’s. With its barren third-level glory.

At the exchange of goodbyes, Peridot spoke up before the other could turn away.

“Let’s plan something like this again.”

Lapis, bemused, asked her what she meant.

She grew a cocky grin. “The outin' has shown me what interaction could do to a sourpuss. Your smile suits you well.”

Her companion—her newly-established and reassured friend—huffed, but the dark shade on her cheeks was evident. “Well, this outin’ helped me clear myself a bit. I don’t get to do that often, especially with the few moments I have to myself.”

“Why are you saying it like that?”

She flinched. “You know, work; it’s hard to have free time.”

Peridot shook her head. “The accent, Laz. You put an accent on the term ‘outing’.” But the intention in Lapis’s statement wasn’t lost on her. “But don’t you have schooling? Why would you do such a thing?”

"I don't…" The bags under Lapis's eyes were more pronounced under the light. "I don't go to school, Peri." Before the blonde could ask her, she lifted a hand to dismiss herself. From Peridot’s perspective, Lapis looked relieved to part. "Look, my mom needs me back home right now. So, let's talk about this for another time, okay?"

Peridot, tongue slack with cotton, decided that another time would be good. 

"Okay." She shuffled. Carrying herself with dragging feet, Lapis disappeared when she opened her respective door—leaving Peridot to watch from afar. 

Shame was the main contender; to ask questions that crossed a threshold she never understood in the first place, and to see hard-boiling failures pop into her life like cancer. Was she supposed to know? The possibility of knowing was utterly closed, but a part of her believed that it was all in the context clues. The shuffling. The pacing. The intertextuality of Lapis's words. But she couldn't berate herself now. Why would she?

Her throat harbored weight, asking herself what went wrong as her key turned; retreating to a dark and quiet place. 


End file.
